


Back To The Fifties

by koganphrancis



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 50s au, Fluff, GGE2017, M/M, One scene with suggest racism, Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 16:17:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13391562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koganphrancis/pseuds/koganphrancis
Summary: For the Gallavich Gift Exchange 2017.  My prompt came from @starsandgutters:Fluffy haired freckle faced Ian, bff Mandy, Iggy, cute interactions with LiamGreaser style Gallavich (can be modern / gangs, just general 50s aesthetic)So here it is, a take on Ian and Mickey and their families living in the 50s!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starsandgutters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsandgutters/gifts).



It was a night in early September, 1951. Autumn was taking its time in getting to Chicago that year and Mandy was happy she could get away with wearing a sweater instead of her coat to the first high school football game of the year and that she didn’t have to worry about frigid wind blowing up her poodle skirt.

During halftime she was at the water fountain on the side of the school building. She hoisted up her “date” for the game so he could take a drink. Liam had just turned four and was far too short to reach the spigot on his own.

“Hey, missy! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” a man yelled. Mandy looked back over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. She didn’t recognize the man, but she recognized the type-middle aged, mean, and spoiling for a fight. Pretty much like her dad, except no one was meaner than her dad. “Get that little shit down from there, that water fountain ain’t for his kind. He don’t belong here.”

Liam was done drinking anyway, so Mandy set him down gently on the ground and put her arm around him protectively, pulling him closer to her.

“He’s Ian Gallagher’s brother-you know, the football star you’re all here to watch tonight? The wide receiver who scores all the points?” She gave a cold stare to the man and each of his cronies standing around with him. She wasn’t intimidated and she wouldn’t back down.

“Colored school’s a few blocks down,” the jerk continued. “Let him go watch his own kind play football.”

“Maybe you didn’t hear me, but his brother plays here, that’s his ‘kind’, and someday Liam will come here and play football too, right Liam?” Mandy said, looking down and giving his shoulders a reassuring squeeze. Liam nodded at her. He thought the sun rose and set on Mandy and anything she wanted him to do, he’d do.

“Play here?” the man snorted. “That little ni…”

“Ay, why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” a voice from behind the man yelled out.

The man and his group all turned around, itching to get into a fight. They couldn’t wait to see who was stupid enough to wander into this and were glad to hear a male voice so they could escalate into a brawl.

The ringleader got all puffed up and was ready to throw down when one of the men with him said, “Oh, shit. It’s a Milkovich.”

The ringleader looked back at Mandy, took in the dark hair and ice blue eyes. “You his sister?”

“Fuckin’ A,” Mickey said, before Mandy could open her mouth. He strode right through the circle of men as if he didn’t even notice them. He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and took out a dollar bill. “Mandy, why don’t you take the kid here to the concession stand-get him some popcorn, a hot dog-anything he wants.”

Liam’s eyes got huge as he watched the dollar pass from Mickey’s hand to Mandy’s. In his family, that was a small fortune. None of the kids ever had more than a nickel or a dime on them.

“Can I get a Coke?” Liam asked Mandy, not quite believing he could get _anything_.

“Sure, kid, knock yourself out,” Mickey said.

Mandy nodded down at Liam, shot the idiot jerk a dirty look, and flounced off holding Liam’s hand, her high pony tail swishing from side to side with every step.

Mickey turned back to the asshole with the mouth.

“We got a problem here,” Mickey said coldly. “You don’t talk to kids like that. You especially don’t talk to my sister like that.”

The man tried to look unconcerned, but he did glance around and noticed some of Mickey’s friends were in the crowd that had gathered to see what would happen.

Mickey wasn’t exactly physically intimidating, but anyone who knew of his family knew not to be deceived by his size. And he dressed like a punk. In a time when young men were wearing buzz cuts and sports coats, Mickey had let his hair grow long enough to comb it into what the uncouth called a “duck’s ass”, with his longer locks pomaded down and swept back to meet in waves at the back of his skull and a couple of curls falling over his forehead. He also wore a black leather jacket with nothing but a white t shirt underneath, and pegged jeans and black ankle-high leather boots. Mickey was one of the first kids in South Side to dress like that. Adults didn’t like it and they didn’t trust him. The kid was trouble, that was obvious.

The loudmouth and his friends were able to pick out Mickey’s friends-and maybe a brother or two-because they all emulated Mickey’s fashion choices. Even though the older men outnumbered them almost two to one, they didn’t have any delusions about Mickey’s crew being faster and scrappier in a fight.  

The asshole who had been hassling Mandy tried to backpedal.

“Hey, I don’t want no trouble with you,” he said, and Mickey nodded. Then the guy blew it. “I bet you fight dirty.”

Mickey covered up a little chuckle by rubbing his forefinger along the skin above his upper lip. “Is that right? Tell you what, grandpa, I’ll let you throw the first punch and I promise you here and now not to knee you in the balls. Total fair fight, you and all your buddies can kick the shit out of me if I’m lyin’. My boys will stay out of it.” All Mickey’s guys nodded and even took a step back.

The man took two steps closer to Mickey. “Oh yeah? You don’t get enough beatings at home?”

Mickey narrowed his eyes a bit, but didn’t take the bait. He reiterated, “Fair. Fight.”

The man looked around at his buddies with a big grin on his face like it was Christmas and his birthday all in one. Then he rapidly swung around and tried to land a haymaker on Mickey before he was ready. Trouble was, Mickey had grown up with Terry Milkovich for a father and therefore was always ready for someone to throw a punch at him. He ducked it easily and brought his right hand up in a jab that landed squarely on the man’s nose. He didn’t use enough force to break it, but Mickey was gratified to see blood come spurting out of it.

“Well, looky here,” Mickey said in a delighted tone. “Man bleeds like a stuck pig. That’s always fun to see.” He deliberately took a big step back to let the asshole know the fight was over as long as the guy didn’t take any more shots.

One of the guy’s buddies stepped forward and gave him a rag out of his back pocket. The obnoxious guy held it up to his face, glaring at Mickey. “Yeah, well, everyone knows you Milkovich boys all carry switchblades,” he muttered, as if that was his reason for giving up the fight so fast.

“And just why in the hell don’t you think that also applies to our sister?” Mickey said, biting on his lower lip and raising his eyebrows at him to let that sink in. “I did you a favor by stepping in. Don’t ever speak to-or even look at-my sister again. You see her coming, you turn around and walk the other way, you hear me? And leave that little boy alone too-he ain’t hurting nothin’.”

The man tried to glare at Mickey, but decided to heed his words instead. He nodded at Mickey and turned to his friends. “Let’s get back to our seats. Second half must be starting soon.”

Mickey was back in the stands watching the second half when Mandy and Liam came walking up the bleacher steps to join him. They were both carrying nickel Cokes and Liam had a box of Cracker Jacks while Mandy was also juggling a hot dog and a big pink cloud of cotton candy on a paper stick. They settled in next to Mickey on the bench, Mickey’s guys scooting over to make room for them.

“Mister, we got you some Cracker Jacks,” Liam said, handing the box to Mickey.

“Aw, thanks, kid, that was nice of you,” Mickey said, actually kind of touched the kid thought of him, even if he did use Mickey’s own money to buy him something.

Mandy gave Liam the hot dog now that he had a hand to take it, and Liam chomped down, taking a big bite. Mickey opened the Cracker Jacks and started crunching on the popcorn and peanuts. He offered the box to Mandy, but she shook her head no. None of Mickey’s guys wanted any of the caramel covered stuff either, so he shrugged and offered some to Liam, who enjoyed it just fine with his mustard and onion covered dog.

Liam had finished up his hot dog after a couple more minutes, so Mickey upended the box of Cracker Jacks into his hand and the last few pieces of popcorn fell out, along with the little package the prize came in.

“Do you want me to open it for you?” Liam asked Mickey.

“Sure, kid, that’d be great,” Mickey said distractedly, watching the action on the field.

“Here, it’s a green elephant!” Liam shouted, holding up the piece of flat plastic right in front of Mickey’s face so he wouldn’t miss it.

“Oh, yeah, great,” Mickey said, raising himself a little higher to watch the play. “Uh, pretty sure I already have that one at home, kid. You keep it.”

“Really?” Liam breathed. “Wow, thank you.”

Mandy smiled at Mickey over Liam’s head. She was pretty much the only person on the entire planet that knew Mickey had a soft side. She reached into the pocket of her sweater. “Here’s your change, Mickey,” she said, trying to hand some coins over to him.

“Keep it-you guys can use it to buy stuff at the next game,” he said, smiling as South High scored another touchdown.

 

Every Friday night in the fall there was a football game, and every Saturday night there was a sock hop in the school gym. Students had to leave their shoes at the door so the soles wouldn’t scuff up the gym floor. Mickey actually went to the sock hops because when Mandy got to high school, guys started harassing her from the time she was a freshman. She liked to dance and she liked to flirt and she liked to kiss the boys, but some of them, especially some of the upper classmen, didn’t realize that that was all she was interested in and they tried to push her for more. So after the third dance in a row when Mandy came home crying because she’d had to knee some jackass in the groin, Mickey started going to the dances too. It cut down on the trouble right away. Mickey would dance with the wallflowers and the girls whose dates were more interested in smoking and drinking out in the parking lot, but he’d never been serious about any one girl.

In Mandy’s sophomore year, somehow she struck up a friendship with a boy in her class named Ian Gallagher. At that point, Ian was just a gangly fifteen year old, all freckles and red hair and so skinny it looked like a stiff breeze could knock him down. Like Mickey, he never came to the sock hops with a date and would always be polite and dance with any of the girls who wanted to be out on the dance floor. He also kept an eye on Mandy, and although he wasn’t physically intimidating, the kid was fearless and scrappy and wouldn’t shy away from a fight. Mickey had to give him credit: he had guts. Mickey could’ve stopped going to the dances and Mandy would’ve been fine with Gallagher there to look out for her (although Mickey just knew he’d get to Mandy faster if she needed some assistance), but he had gotten into the habit of going and he actually liked a night out where he didn’t have to be anything but the kid he basically was. The only thing he didn’t like was trying to come up with two socks that nearly matched and didn’t have holes in them.

Ian had made the varsity football team as a sophomore. His coordination got better the more he played, and he could run like the wind. Other players and teams began to respect him and even fear his scoring ability.

And then between last year and this year, something really miraculous happened. Ian grew taller and filled out. Now not only other football players noticed him, but the girls at the dance did too. Mickey was grinning to himself, watching Ian try to fight off a gaggle of girls who all wanted a piece of him. He had been the hero of the game the night before, scoring every touchdown South had racked up. Tonight even the girls who had steady boyfriends were trying to get him to dance with them, but Ian was seeking out the girls he had always danced with since freshman year.

“What are you grinning about?” Mandy asked, joining Mickey at the punchbowl to grab a quick refresher.

“Your best buddy over there,” Mickey said, nodding in Ian’s general direction. “The gals have noticed him at last.” Mickey chuckled into his paper cup.

“Do you think I should go rescue him?” Mandy asked.

Mickey actually seemed to be considering her question-she hadn’t really expected an answer. Mickey usually didn’t give a sweet damn about anything going on in school.

“I think it’d only be fair,” Mickey said. “He’s saved your reputation plenty of times.”

Mandy was even more surprised by Mickey’s answer, but he had a point. She put her cup down and went wading into the crowd around Ian, pulling on his arm and getting him to face her so they could dance. Ian put his left hand into Mandy’s right and placed his right hand respectfully on her upper back and they moved away from the others.

Mickey’s eyes followed them for a few seconds, Ian’s bright hair acting as a beacon even when other couples started swirling around them. Then Mickey’s attention was captured by someone else, his brother Iggy was standing at the open doors of the gym, waving Mickey over.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Mickey asked. Iggy had dropped out years ago, and Mickey did not need him around screwing up his senior year.

“Me and Colin and Jamie and Joey are gonna break into the science lab, steal some shit. You want in?” Iggy said, rubbing his hands like he was some kind of evil mastermind.

“What the hell are you gonna do with it?” Mickey asked.

“Sell it, candy ass,” Iggy said, rolling his eyes.

“Who the fuck wants to buy microscopes and Bunsen burners?” Mickey asked, exasperated.

“Dunno-someone!”Iggy insisted. “You want in or not?”

“Not,” Mickey said, folding his arms over his chest.

“Fine! Party pooper,” Iggy sniffed, disappointed. He turned around and walked off. Mickey stood chewing on his lower lip for a minute, then followed.

When he got to the science room, his brothers had already jimmied the lock and were inside. Mickey was just about to enter the room to tell them what a bad fucking idea this all was when he heard soft footsteps thudding down the hall. He looked over his shoulder and saw Gallagher running in his stocking feet.

“Hey! Coach Williams is on his way,” he whisper-yelled as he skidded to a stop next to Mickey.

“Ah, shit,” Mickey said, his hand still on the doorknob, seeing the science teacher-slash-coach rounding the corner of the hallway.

“You gentlemen get lost? I believe the dance is in the gym…”

Mickey was trying to think up a plausible lie when Ian began talking.

“It’s my fault, Coach. I bet Mickey I could get through the transom over the door and Mickey said I couldn’t, but once I was inside the room I couldn’t get back out the locked door so Mickey jimmied the lock for me.”

The coach was suspicious. “Why didn’t you just climb back through the transom?”

“Didn’t have Mickey’s shoulders to stand on in there. Sir,” Ian added, giving the coach the most choir boy look Mickey had ever seen.

The coach still had his doubts, but Ian was his star player and a good kid. He wanted to believe him, but he wasn’t thoroughly convinced.  

“If anything’s missing, Mickey here is going to do another stint in juvie,” the coach threatened. He opened the door and looked around the lab. Mickey was relieved to see his brothers must have heard them talking and had taken off through a window and luckily didn’t have time to steal anything to land his ass back in juvie. Mickey had been a guest there on a couple of occasions for minor offenses like public brawling and some light shoplifting-groceries for his family when Terry drank his paycheck away, which happened far more often than Mickey had gotten nabbed for.

Coach Williams could see nothing amiss but he was still suspicious about Ian’s story. Something just seemed off about it. Since when did he hang around with a hood like Mickey?   He asked Ian what the stakes of the bet were, since he knew Gallaghers never had money.

“If I won, Mickey would try out for the football team,” Ian came up with on the spot. Ian was the team captain and they had lost their best running back before the season started when he broke his arm in practice. “He’d make a great running back, don’t you think, Coach?”

The coach looked Mickey over, considering. He had never thought of him as an athlete before, but he knew the kid was tough and didn’t shy away from physical contact. Mickey tried not to squirm while the man was looking at him. He was so pissed at Ian, but he couldn’t say anything because that would just land him in trouble, since the coach seemed to be buying the redhead’s story.

“Practice at three Monday, bring him on by,” the coach said. “And now get back to the dance or I’ll have to write you both up for some demerits.” Ian and Mickey didn’t need to be told twice, they took off down the hall.  

Mickey was not happy about trying out, but he figured it would keep him out of detention, so he showed up after school on Monday. The team manager gave him some pads and a helmet and a practice shirt and uniform pants to put on, and Mickey made his way out to the field. The team was gathered around the coach in a semblance of a circle. Mickey walked up and stood next to Gallagher since he was the only guy there Mickey had ever spoken to.

“Milkovich, good, you’re here,” the coach said when he noticed him. “We gonna run some drills-you know the rules of football?”

Mickey just nodded, but in his head he was thinking, “Fuckin’ A I know the rules. Terry Milkovich ain’t raised no sissy.”

The coach had the team line up, putting Mickey at the running back position and explaining the play he was going to have them run. Mickey was told his route to take a handoff from the quarterback and then try to get through the defensive line. They tried the play a couple of times but then the coach blew his whistle and waved Mickey over.

“Milkovich, I want you to bust through that line,” the coach explained.

“I’m trying,” Mickey shrugged.

‘Try harder, put your shoulders into it, bowl those guys over.”

“You serious?” Mickey said.

The coach rolled his eyes. “Of course I’m serious. Bash into them as hard as you can.”

“That’s allowed?” Mickey asked, his eyes lighting up. His whole school career, bashing into guys got him into nothing but trouble, but here the coach was telling him he could go ahead and do it?

“You’ve seen games, right?” the coach asked. “You’re allowed to try to get through guys when you have the ball, as long as you don’t maim anyone-or yourself.” The coach was thinking of his star running back and his busted arm.

Mickey got back on the line and started breaking through the defense on every play. He had explosive speed once he was past his defenders too. The coach’s smile got bigger and bigger as practice went on. He told Mickey how to hold off the defense on plays when he wasn’t getting the ball to give the QB more time and to free up the other offensive players for running and scoring opportunities. The coach had to make some adjustments because Mickey was more inclined to hit and shove even when a hold would suffice, but overall he was picking up the game quickly and was as strong as a bull.

At the end of practice, the coach gathered everyone around him again and announced, “Boys, it’s official, meet your new running back. Congratulations, Milkovich, you made the team.” The players let out a big shout and Ian slapped Mickey on the back with a big smile. “All right, you animals, you’re dismissed, see you out here same time tomorrow,” the coach said. All the guys started jogging off towards the school, except Mickey.

Ian noticed Mickey wasn’t next to him and turned around, still jogging, just backwards now. “Hey, Mickey, aren’t you coming?”

Mickey shook his head. “Naw, I’ll shower at home…you want a ride?”

“Who, me?” Ian said, surprised, stopping in his tracks.

“No, the other six foot redhead behind you,” Mickey said, and grinned when Gallagher was just that gullible that he turned and looked behind him. “Come on, you live like three streets over. I’m heading in that direction anyway.”

“I gotta get my books, they’re in the locker room,” Ian said.

“I’ll wait for ya,” Mickey started walking towards the parking lot.  

Mickey was still in school for one reason, and one reason only. It was because he got to take auto shop and he had a lovingly restored 1934 Cadillac that was just a rotting hulk of rust when he found it in his freshman year. The junkyard owner let him have it for twenty five bucks and had even let him use his old mule to drag it over to the school, and then Mickey and a bunch of his crew from auto shop had pushed it into the garage bay on wobbly wheels. He’d been working on it all through high school and it had come back to life. Mickey liked how the car was made the same year he was born, and he doted on it like it was his baby.

Mickey got great grades in math without even trying, but in all his other classes he was barely passing and only made the minimum effort to be able to stay in school to work on the car.

Mickey had peeled off his helmet and shoulder pads and was leaning against his car in his T shirt and football pants, smoking a cigarette when Ian came running out to the parking lot.

“Milkovich! Cut down on the smokes! You’re in training now!” the coach yelled from the faculty portion of the parking lot as he got into his car. Mickey smirked around the butt in his mouth and held up his fingers in a circle, giving the coach the okay sign.

Ian skidded to a stop next to Mickey’s car. Mickey offered the half smoked cigarette to Ian, but he shook his head. Mickey shrugged and took another puff.

“You’re not going to quit?” Ian asked.

“Naw, too much left of it to smoke,” Mickey said, squinting up at Ian when the wind blew some smoke back into his eyes.

“I meant the team,” Ian said shyly.

Mickey was surprised. “You think I should?”

“What? NO! I think you’re great, I knew you’d be great-with those thighs, and you’re fast-you were born to be a running back, I’ve always thought so,” Ian gushed.

Mickey grinned.   “You warm for my form, Gallagher?”

Ian blushed. His face got as red as his hair, Mickey observed.

“No…I mean, I’ve noticed…” Ian decided to get back on track with his original thought. “I just figured you’d turn up today to get the coach off your back and then…” he shrugged.

“I’ll stick around for a while,” Mickey said, thinking how it wasn’t too bad to get to hit guys without ramifications. He pitched the butt of his now-finished cigarette and opened the door to the Caddy.

“Hop in,” Mickey said. Ian grinned and ran around to the passenger’s side.

“This is really nice,” Ian said, taking in the interior of the car. Ian hadn’t been in a lot of cars, but this was by far the nicest.

“Yeah?” Mickey said, sounding pleased. “Everything in here is from junk yards, from wrecks, you know? There wasn’t much to her when I found her.”

“Cool,” Ian said.

Ian had his books held together with a worn book strap that had definitely seen better days and a big paper sack, all of which he was trying to keep on his lap.

“That your lunch in there?” Mickey asked with a grin.

“Huh? Oh, no, my school clothes, from my locker,” Ian explained. He had thrown off his practice gear and put his letterman jacket on before joining Mickey in the parking lot. “Where are your books?”

“In the trunk,” Mickey said, starting the engine. “You can throw your shit in the backseat, if you want.”

Ian turned on the leather seat and placed his stuff on the floor behind him.

“Thanks for the ride, Mickey,” Ian said, as he turned around to face forward. “This car is boss.”

Mickey smiled as he drove out of the parking lot. “Like I said, we’re going in the same direction. If you want, just throw your shit in the trunk tomorrow before practice and I’ll give you a ride, any day we have practice, I guess.”

“Wow, Mickey! Thanks!” The school was a little over a mile and a half from Ian’s house and having a ride would save Ian a nice chunk of time every day.

“You, ah, seeing Mandy tonight?” Mickey asked, just to make conversation of course.

Ian sighed. “Yeah, after supper. She’s gonna try and help me study for a big math test I’ve got tomorrow. Lip usually would, but he’s working tonight.” Lip had several part time jobs after school, today he was doing his job he had with a professor at Theodore Herzl Junior College, he’d correct papers and help come up with lesson plans with the man. Ian had a job too-as a box boy at a grocery store-but during football season he could only work on Saturdays. He would’ve worked Sundays too, but the store was closed.

“Mandy’s good at English, but math’s not exactly her strong suit,” Ian added.

“You taking trig this year?” Mickey said, watching the road.

“Yeah, and I’m fucking lost.”

“I, ah, I might be able to help you guys out,” Mickey said. “If I’m around when you get there.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Mickey did just happen to be around when Ian showed up, and Mickey spent a couple of hours tutoring him and Mandy and having them do problems from their textbooks that he thought were most like problems that would probably be on the test. When Ian was leaving he thanked Mickey.

“I think I learned more from you tonight than I’ve learned in class since school started,” Ian said, as he snapped up his letterman jacket. “You made it make sense-even better than Lip. He talks too much instead of just showing me what to do.”

Mickey grinned. “Happy to help, but maybe save your thanks till you get the test back.”

Ian gave him a big warm grin. He had no doubt in his mind he was going to ace this test, all thanks to Mickey.

Over the next few weeks they fell into a pattern. Mickey would drive Ian home after practice and more often than not Ian would walk over to the Milkoviches’ after supper and they’d do their homework, except on Thursdays when Ian had Boy Scout meetings.

“You’re a Boy Scout?” Mickey had asked when Ian told him he wouldn’t be coming over the first Thursday. “No, wait, of course you are,” Mickey said before Ian could answer.

Ian was surprised Mickey was spending so many nights at home, but the truth of the matter was Mickey was a bit relieved to have an excuse not to be with his hood friends as much as he used to be before joining the football team. All they’d ever do was hang out in pool halls or on corners (when they didn’t have money for pool, which was often) and get into trouble and fights out of sheer boredom. It was good to have football as an excuse-Mickey honestly was too tired most nights to stay out till the city curfew went into effect, he’d rather get to sleep after grueling practices.

Mandy also happened to mention to Ian that Mickey was always around the house more whenever their dad was staying at the gray-bar motel, where he was now serving out an eight month sentence.

Mickey proved to be a great addition to the team. Without even trying, he was placed in a leadership role right away by the other players. They admired his toughness and his no bullshit attitude. If a guy was dogging, Mickey had no qualms about calling him out in front of everyone. He made everyone step up their game, and the team was all the better for it. His running game also opened up their passing game, so with the double threat of Mickey and Ian, other teams had a hard time scrambling to cover them both and they were racking up wins.

Mickey was a natural born leader. He called all the shots in auto shop, all his classmates and even the teacher let him decide what they’d be working on. And with his crew, even though he was the youngest and pretty much the smallest (although none of his brothers were that much bigger physically), he was also the one they all regarded as the smartest, and the one who came up with the best ideas. The only thing they didn’t like was how he wouldn’t drive them around in his Caddy, but Mickey had a strict no smoking policy in the car-he didn’t even smoke in it himself-so they realized they were better off walking when they hung out. They were a bit lost without Mickey, but Iggy and Colin did what they could to fill his shoes.

Mandy would bring Liam to all the home games. Carl and Debbie weren’t interested in football and a bored, distracted Gallagher wasn’t something that anyone should have to babysit during a game. Liam loved the excitement and even understood the basics of the game, despite his young age. Mandy and Liam would also trek to some of the away games that were played close enough to their neighborhood in the city.

When they played away games, Mickey had no choice but to shower in the locker room after the game. He didn’t mind getting changed in the locker room with the rest of the team to put on his uniform, he had picked out a locker in the darkest corner of the room at his school and would seek out the same in the visitor’s locker rooms the team used, and he would quickly get out of his school clothes and into the uniform, but the first time he showered with the team he almost started a fist fight when one of the other guys innocently asked him about a long scar on his ribcage. He told the sophomore to mind his own fucking business and walked out of the showers and got dressed as fast as he could. No one mentioned it, or even looked at Mickey too closely when he was undressed, ever again.

An offshoot to Mickey spending his evenings in with Mandy and Ian while they did their homework was that he started doing some of his own as well. During the day he had specifically set up his schedule so his study hall was right before lunch, which was right before auto shop, with the result that he spent all three periods in the workshop continuingly working on and improving the condition of his car and not studying at all during study hall. When he was with Mandy and Ian in the evenings, while they were working on subjects they didn’t need Mickey’s help for, he had little else to do but crack his own books, and his grades in science and history started to come up. He had no interest in English, which in his senior year focused on American Literature. He didn’t understand the point of reading made up shit that didn’t happen. He couldn’t get into it, not that he tried.

In early October the coach called Mickey into his office before practice and told him the English teacher had informed him of all the students who were failing her class. Mickey rolled his eyes.

“What’s that old bitc…biddy talking to you for?” Mickey said, although he knew damn well why.

“You gotta maintain a passing average in every subject or you don’t get to play, Milkovich. I don’t want to bench you, but I will if I have to. Mrs. Lundquist said she’ll let you take an extra test to replace the grade of the last one. You can take it Monday-can you promise me that you’ll cram and try to pass it?”

“Yes, sir,” Mickey sighed.

Mandy was good at grammar and spelling and shit, but Mickey knew he needed more than that to pass the test. Lundquist was into metaphors and finding hidden meanings and all that shit. Besides, Mickey knew he and Mandy would end up yelling at each other if she tried to teach him. He briefly wondered if Lip Gallagher was any good with that stuff, supposedly the kid sold English papers to other students. Mickey wished he could pay him to take the test for him. He considered asking him if he ever tutored anyone, but realized he’d want to punch him if he tried teaching him, kid always was a bit of an arrogant ass.

There was nothing left to do but ask Ian, Mickey decided. If he said he stunk in English too Mickey figured he’d have to tuck his tail between his legs and ask Lundquist if she would recommend a student to help him study.

On the drive home from practice that day, Mickey reluctantly asked, “Hey, Gallagher, you any good at English?”

“Grammar and stuff? I’m not too solid with that-Mandy usually helps me,” Ian admitted.

“But what about the other shit? You know, like when they make you read something and you’re supposed to find shit in it and talk about it?”

“Oh yeah, that’s my favorite part,” Ian said enthusiastically.

Mickey wasn’t surprised. He hadn’t really thought about it specifically till now, but if anyone had ever asked him, he realized he’d say Ian seemed like a bit of a dreamer, a guy who could use his imagination.

“You, ah, you think you could help me study for an English test I gotta do over on Monday?” Mickey asked, concentrating on the road in front of him and grasping the wheel so hard his knuckles were white.

“Of course!” Ian said. “You’ve been helping me so much with math, it’s the least I can do. Ah, shit…”

“What?” Mickey said, his relief at Ian saying yes turning to worry on a dime.

“Well, tonight I’ve got Boy Scouts, tomorrow night’s a game…would you mind if we studied at the store on Saturday? You can sit in the storeroom out back and I can help you while I stock this week’s delivery and between customers.”

“Uh, sure, but we’ve got Sunday too,” Mickey said.

“Well, yeah, but we all usually have a lot of homework to do then, I want to make sure you have enough time to work on English,” Ian said. It was partly true, but Ian’s main reason for wanting to tutor Mickey alone was that he felt he had a better chance of getting Mickey to listen to him if Mandy wasn’t around. Ian didn’t mind the way Mickey teased him and joked with him when they were all together, but it was definitely like a big dog letting the little puppies know he was in charge. If Ian was going to be able to show Mickey anything, Mickey was going to have to submit a little, at least. Ian couldn’t picture Mickey doing that with Mandy there to witness it.

Ian reached into the backseat and found Mickey’s textbook. He read down the table of contents and said, “Here’s a good story for us to look at-The Murders In The Rue Morgue. Read that and we can talk about it Saturday.”

Not surprisingly, Mickey blew off reading it until Saturday. He showed up at Ian’s store around eleven in the morning, and Ian set him up out back in the stockroom. He had stacked up a couple of empty crates when he started his shift, and told Mickey he could sit there and read the story.

“Ain’t gonna be any rats scurrying around back here, is there?” Mickey asked, looking around.

“It’s a pretty clean store, Mickey. You’ll be fine. The morning rush is over, so I’ll be out here grabbing stuff to put out on the shelves.”

He left Mickey to it, and despite the flowery old-timey language, Mickey got through the story relatively quickly.

“Okay, I read it, now what?” he said the next time Ian came out back to grab some canned beets to put out front.

“Now tell me what you think about the story-what happened in it, what you liked about it, stuff like that. But,” Ian put his hand up before Mickey had a chance to start speaking, “write it down instead of talking to me.”

“Are you serious?” Mickey asked.

Ian nodded. “Just write whatever you’d say about the story if you were telling me about it.”

Mickey looked nervous. He bit his lower lip and wouldn’t look Ian in the eye.

“Mickey, it’s just me. You can talk to me, right? Well, do that, but just in writing. You know I’m not going to judge you.”

“But Lundquist will.”

“No she won’t,” Ian insisted.

Mickey raised an eyebrow at him. “Isn’t that what grading me is about?”

Ian sighed a soft little sigh. “Mickey, she’s not going to judge you, she’s just going to assess whether or not you have a grasp on what the story was about and if you picked up on any symbolism and stuff like that. Anyway, forget her, and just pretend you’re talking to me for now, okay?” Ian dragged some more empty crates over for Mickey to use as a desk. Mickey sighed and opened up his three ring binder to an empty page and took the pencil down from behind his ear.

Ian let him work away at it until he was done, and then he told Mickey he got a half hour break for lunch. Ian had tucked away two tuna sandwiches wrapped in wax paper he had brought from home in the cold storage room, and he bought bottles of Coke for them to have with their lunch. Ian read over Mickey’s paper while he ate, sitting on the crates that had been serving as Mickey’s desk.

Ian was nodding and smiling as he read. “This is good, Mickey. You really picked up on imagery and foreshadowing in the story, and you summarized the overall story well. I think you took the ‘talking to me’ thing a bit too far, you can’t swear like this on a test,” he chuckled.

“I know, but I was in the flow of pretending to talk to you-that was really good advice, Ian.”

Ian blushed and took a quick sip of his Coke. “One thing teachers always seem to like about my papers is that I write them like I talk-they’ve said it sounds natural,” he shrugged modestly. “They’re probably just relieved I don’t sound pretentious like Lip.”

“Hey, don’t do that,” Mickey said.

“Do what?”

“Sell yourself short. If teachers like your work, take the compliment. Forget Lip, he has nothing to do with that,” Mickey said, looking right into Ian’s eyes. Ian blushed again. “So, ah, that was a pretty bad ass story. I actually kind of liked it,” Mickey added.

Ian beamed a smile at Mickey that Mickey couldn’t help but smile back to. “I thought you’d like it, that’s why I picked it.”

“Wish Lundquist would have us read cool shit like that, I might actually pay attention in class.”

Ian laughed at the truth of that.

“How did you know about that story?” Mickey asked.

“I read a lot, when I have time,” Ian said. “I’m hoping to get into West Point when I graduate, and Lip said the best way to get my grades up is to always try to be learning something. I like reading, so it’s a nice break from the stuff that’s hard for me to do, like math.”

“What do you want to go to West Point for?” Mickey said, a strange feeling creeping over him. “If you want the army to give you a gun, the nearest recruiting station is a few blocks that way.”

“I want to be an officer.”

“You do know there’s a war on, right?” Mickey said, that weird feeling getting stronger.

“It’s a police action, and that’s exactly why I want to be an officer-the army still needs men who want to serve their country,” Ian said, bristling a little.

Mickey crumpled up his wax paper from his sandwich and stood up. “Didn’t mean to start anything, Gallagher. Just askin’. Thanks for lunch, and, uh, helping out with the homework. I’ll see ya around.” He picked up his books and walked out. Ian was disappointed he left, but he knew he’d see him that night at the dance.

On Monday Mickey was late to practice because he had to take the make up test-and wait while the teacher graded it. The coach was okay with that since on Mondays they only did light conditioning and went over plays and strategy for that week’s opponent. He knew Mickey would pick it up quick whenever he joined the practice, plus he knew that Gallagher would fill him in on anything he missed-the coach had gotten used to seeing their heads together going over the playbook and even coming up with new plays that they brought to the coach.

When Mickey jogged onto the practice field a little over an hour in, Ian could tell by the look on Mickey’s face he had done well on the test. Mickey’s eyes were seeking out Ian, and when he saw Ian was already looking at him, he gave him a thumbs up and then ran over to his position on the line, joining in with the team as they did jumping jacks.

After practice, Mickey spoke with Coach Williams in his office and then joined Ian, who had waited by the field to walk to Mickey’s car with him. Ian’s stuff was already in the trunk, and for once Mickey was carrying his books and clothes from the locker room, since he went straight onto the field once he had changed.

“How did you do?” Ian blurted, the suspense of not knowing exactly how good the news might be over the last hour and a half getting to him.

“Ceeeeeee plus,” Mickey said, dragging it out with obvious relish. “Best grade I ever got in that class, and it probably would’ve been even better if I had liked the story. She had me read some weird shit-I think it was called Feathertop? By some guy named Hawthorne? It’s about this wacky old bitch who decides to turn her scarecrow into her son and even tries to marry him off to the chick down the road.”

“Haven’t read that one yet,” Ian said.

“Don’t bother,” Mickey snorted. “Lundquist told me she could tell I made a real effort to understand the story, and she said she liked how I answered the essay question in my own words. I told her that was cuz you told me to write it like I was talking to her.”

“You did?” Ian asked, surprised.

“Credit where credit is due, right?” Mickey said, opening his car door. “The test wasn’t as bad as I thought. I realized how the first questions she asks-the multiple choices and the ‘list three literary elements found in this story’ sort of clue you in to what she’s looking for you to get when you get around to writing the essay question.”

Ian gave Mickey a shy smile. He wasn’t used to getting credit for doing well, except on the football field where the crowd would cheer and the coach would yell words of encouragement. But to have someone like Mickey make sure he got credit made him feel all warm inside.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't resist making Ian a Boy Scout ;) 
> 
> Couldn't resist making a few canon allusions.


	3. Chapter 3

That night while Ian was at the Milkoviches doing his homework, Mandy had to tell him something.

“Hey, Ian? I know I promised you I’d help you with that scouting thing Sunday, but Mrs. Robbins needs me to babysit, and, well, if you don’t mind, I could really use the money,” Mandy said.

“What the hell do you need money for?” Mickey grumbled.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but a girl likes to have some walking around money, you know? I don’t expect Lip to pay for everything when we go out. I’d like to treat him to a movie sometimes, or at least buy the popcorn.”

Lip and Mandy had been dating for a few weeks now. They had struck up an acquaintance when Mandy had picked up Liam for a couple of football games when Lip happened to be at home. In the past, Lip had avoided the sock hops and football games, preferring to spend his social time in more intimate settings one on one with various fast girls, instead of wasting a whole evening chatting a girl up or dancing with her only to have to settle for a kiss on the cheek at the girl’s front door when he walked them home.

But there was something about Mandy. Lip liked her fiery spirit and quick comebacks, and how she didn’t back down from anyone. So far he had been nothing but respectful with Mandy, but both Mickey and Ian didn’t like the match and were secretly dreading its inevitable end, not that either of them ever spoke about it. Lip was going to all the sock hops now, but still didn’t go to the football games. He’d wait at home for Mandy to bring Liam back and they’d make out on the couch.

“It’s okay, Mandy,” Ian said.

“Oh, thank you!” Mandy breathed with relief. “If Mrs. Robbins got someone else to cover for me on Sunday, I was worried I might lose my regular gig with her.” Mandy often babysat for the Robbins kids on Thursday nights when Mrs. Robbins went to her sewing circle and her husband was at his bowling league.

“So, what’s this scouting thing?” Mickey asked, keeping his eyes on his notes and trying to act like he didn’t care.

“I have to do good deeds to earn badges,” Ian explained. “On Sunday I volunteered to clean out the attic of some old guy in Canaryville-Mandy was going to lend a hand. It’s okay, though. It’ll just take a little longer doing it by myself.”

“I ain’t doin’ nothin’,” Mickey said, still not looking at Ian.

Ian wrinkled his forehead, wondering if Mickey could possibly be offering to help.

“Mickey…do…you…want to help?” Ian said. Mandy rolled her eyes. How Ian hadn’t noticed by now Mickey would do anything for him was beyond her, Mickey’s casual act aside.

Mickey shrugged. “Ain’t got nothin’ else to do.”

“Oh, wow, that would be so great!” Ian said, clearly happy. Mickey got one of his shiny eyed small smiles that always snuck out over his face when Ian was around. “I was going to use Liam’s little red wagon to bring junk to the incinerator, but if we could throw it in the trunk of your car it’ll go so much faster.”

“My car?” Mickey said, wondering just what kind of “junk” Ian wanted to put in it. Then he shrugged again. “Yeah, okay.”

Mandy hid a smile of her own. Ian had her brother wrapped around his little finger if Mickey was willing to put Ian before his beloved Caddy.

Mickey duly showed up at Ian’s at nine o’clock Sunday morning and they drove to the address Ian had gotten from the volunteer sign-up sheet. The old man answered the door and immediately gave Mickey a cold look. Mickey was wearing his usual outfit and the old man questioned the sanity of letting this hoodlum into his house. But the redhead looked as clean cut as could be, plus the man figured he could always sue the Boy Scouts Of America if anything happened.

“Start in the garage,” the old crank said, and shut the door in their faces.

“You didn’t say anything about a garage…,” Mickey began.

“No one did, but, come on, Mickey. It’s for a good deed.”

“You know what they say about good deeds don’t you? How they never go unpunished?”

Ian shook his head at Mickey and then gave him the puppy eyes.

Mickey rolled his own eyes. “Fine, but if we find any skin mags in there, I’m keeping them.”

Ian laughed and said that would be okay by him.

There weren’t any magazines, but there were plenty of newspapers-stacks and stacks of them. Ian wished he had brought Liam’s wagon to drag them to Mickey’s car. The garage was so full the man kept his old Ford in the driveway, and Mickey had had to park in the street. They filled up the trunk after Mickey had taken the wool blanket he kept in there to protect the front seat when he and Ian were all muddy after practice and spread it over the back seat so they could stack more papers there. When the car was full, they drove it to the incinerator to burn the first batch. Lots of other do-gooder Boy Scouts were there and they said hello to Ian, giving Mickey openly curious looks. Ian was aware of the scrutiny but just said hello back to the guys he knew and went about his business.

When they got back to the garage, Mickey was crabby for a while, but Ian just let him mutter to himself. The garage had seemed cold when they first started working, but now they were warmed up from all the physical exertion and Ian pulled off the gray sweatshirt covered in paint stains he was wearing and Mickey peeled off his leather jacket and then they were both in plain white T shirts. The next trip to the incinerator they didn’t get nearly as many looks, and Mickey’s mood improved immensely. He stopped at a drug store on the way back to the old man’s house and treated them both to egg creams.

They finished cleaning up the garage and Ian went inside to see if the old man wanted them to park the car inside it, now that there was room. Mr. O’Reilly (for that was his name) said he’d go out and see for himself if the garage was cleaned out enough.

“Seems you did a decent enough job,” he said, giving the small building a thorough going over with a gimlet eye. “Best get to work on the attic.”

“You’re fu…” Mickey began, but Ian spoke over him.

“Sure thing, Mr. O’Reilly!” He dragged Mickey off towards the house.

“I was just gonna say ‘you’re welcome’,” Mickey said to Ian, pulling his arm free.

“Yeah, with a ‘fucking’ in the middle,” Ian laughed.

“What’s wrong with that?” Mickey asked.

“Mickey, a Boy Scout is supposed to be cheerful and polite at all times.”

“Yeah, and I ain’t no fucking Boy Scout,” Mickey said.

The attic turned out to be a finished room that ran the length of the house. It looked like it had been a bedroom once upon a time-there were twin beds sticking out into the room from underneath the eaves of the roof, but over time the space had become a catch-all for all the detritus of a lifetime spent living in one place.

They got rid of more newspapers first, and then Ian began bringing things down to ask Mr. O’Reilly if he wanted to keep them. He’d barely glance at what Ian was showing him and tell him to throw it out. Ian asked if the items that could be used by someone else could be given to the Scout Masters who were collecting such things at the incinerator.

“What do I care? Ain’t got no use for it, but anyone else is welcome to it.”

Ian and Mickey made several more trips to the incinerator, and Ian asked Mr. O’Reilly if he could keep checkers and a checkerboard and a set of tin soldiers for his little brothers.

“Told you I don’t care, take what you want from up there,” the old man said, tired of Ian’s pestering.

Ian and Mickey were actually having fun, trying to outdo each other in who could carry the most stuff in one trip and busting on each other about the other loading up on light items so it looked like he was carrying more.

Mickey was super helpful. When Ian found a broom in the corner, he swept up a big pile of dust into the middle of the floor, and Mickey found a newspaper and opened it up and squatted down so Ian could sweep the pile into it like a dustpan. They worked well together. Ian thought about how Lip was always trying to tell him more efficient ways to do stuff, bossing him around whenever they had to do anything together. And Fiona would go over everything Ian had done with worry lines on her forehead like she was going to have to redo things. Which was a joke coming from both Lip and Fi, since Ian was the most meticulous out of all of them-always had been.

Mickey carefully picked up the newspaper with all the dust piled onto it and said he’d be right back. While he was gone, Ian was thinking how much fun the day had turned into and how Mickey kept him laughing while they worked. Ian was a popular enough kid, but he didn’t have many actual friends. He got along well with any group he found himself in, but he never shared too much of himself with other people.

Until he met Mandy, Ian’s only real friend his whole life had been Lip. There was this feeling of not fitting in with other people that he’d never been able to shake. Not having their mother in their lives with any semblance of consistency was a big part of that. In their neighborhood if a parent wandered, it was usually the dad, and he certainly didn’t keep dropping back into the family’s life with a new baby every few years.

Mandy’s mom being permanently dead and gone was one of the first things they bonded over. During students’ sophomore year, they had to take English Composition and their assignment was to write a family history. The teacher randomly paired the students up to review each other’s work, and Ian and Mandy were assigned to work together. When they got their papers back, they had both lost points for writing one line each about their mothers. Mandy wrote, “She’s dead,” and Ian wrote, “She’s gone,” and the unsympathetic teacher deducted ten points off each of their papers and kept them after class to tell them they should’ve caught that when they were reviewing each other’s compositions and fixed it.

Mandy popped her chewing gum and looked bored, and Ian tried to argue that there wasn’t any more to say about either mom, but the teacher didn’t change their grades, so they sat together at lunch and bitched about him and were inseparable after that. Ian could talk to Mandy like a peer, whereas with Fiona it was more like talking to a parent. He could be more open with Mandy, and he knew she didn’t worry about every little thing he said or thought like Fiona did. Fi took things too seriously and Ian understood that to a point, but sometimes he wished he could just say something to her and not have her bring it up a few days later, trying to analyze what effect it would have on his entire life. Sometimes he liked to just say shit to get it out of his system. Mandy got that and didn’t flip out over every little thing he said. And didn’t tell him he was stupid or act like she’d already been there, which is how Lip had started to treat him the older he got.

Mickey was…different. Even different than Mandy. Ian couldn’t imagine talking about his erstwhile mom with him. But somehow, Ian knew he could trust Mickey with anything, and if he had to talk about his mom-or anything else-Mickey would listen. And Ian laughed a lot with Mickey and that was different than laughing with Mandy. When Mandy and Ian both felt something was funny, they’d laugh about it. They’d remember to tell each other funny stuff that happened when they weren’t together and laugh about that. But with Mickey, Ian felt like laughing even when nothing particularly or specifically funny was happening. He felt…lighter around Mickey.

Mickey came back upstairs carrying some rags and a bottle of furniture polish.

“Where’d you get that stuff?” Ian asked.

“The old man. I asked him if he anything we could dust with.”

Ian was impressed with Mickey’s thoughtfulness.

“Figured you could get the layer of dust off of everything, and I’ll follow with the polish,” Mickey said. It was a good plan and the room looked even better with the furniture dusted and glowing under the overhead light from the polish.

When they were done dusting, Mickey opened a drawer in the little table that was built into the wall between the beds. He let out a soft, “Oh damn,” that caught Ian’s attention. Ian walked over to see what he was looking at, and Mickey pulled out two framed pictures from the drawer-they were the only things in there.

One of the black and white photographs was of two small boys, probably not much more than a year apart. It was a studio picture and they were wearing matching outfits with short pants, their chubby legs swinging from the perch they had been set upon for the photo. The other picture was a candid of two young men in Marine uniforms, their arms around each other’s shoulders. Their faces hadn’t changed all that much from the time the first photo was taken, and it was clear to see they were brothers. That picture was matted with black ribbon.

“Wow,” Ian breathed. “Do you think?”

“Yeah, probably,” Mickey said. “Those look like World War I uniforms-this was probably where they grew up.”

Ian looked around the room. Now that all the junk was out, it was cozy. “Poor Mr. O’Reilly,” Ian said.

“Well, let’s finish up,” Mickey said, putting the pictures back into the drawer just as he had found them. He shut the drawer gently. They gathered up the dirty rags and brought them downstairs.

“We’re finished, Mr. O’Reilly, if you’d like to take a look,” Ian said to the old man, who was sitting at his kitchen table. Mr. O’Reilly got up slowly and grumbled to himself all the way up the stairs.

He looked around the room from the top of the stairs, not really entering into the room itself. He was quiet for so long Ian wondered if he was going to say anything at all when he abruptly said, “I ain’t payin’ you anything for this.”

“That’s fine, Mr. O’Reilly. I can’t accept payment for a good deed,” Ian explained.

“Well, you were just supposed to haul the junk away, but you cleaned too, I could give you boys a couple of dollars,” Mr. O’Reilly said.

“No,” Ian said.

“No,” Mickey said too, but more reluctantly.

“Well, you did such a good job you deserve something,” Mr. O’Reilly said in a much kinder voice than they had heard him use up to this point. “If there’s anything I can ever do for you, any favor you might need…”

“Again, Mr. O’Reilly, I didn’t do this expecting anything back,” Ian began, “but I did happen to notice you have a complete set of the Encyclopedia Britannica on the bookshelves we dusted. I have to do a term paper on the Peloponnesian War, and the libraries-even the school library-don’t let you check out encyclopedias and they’re never open nights or on Sundays, which is the only time I have to work on homework. Would it be okay if I came back next Sunday and used your encyclopedia?”

“Those are awful old,” Mr. O’Reilly said.   “Bought them when my boys were in school. A door to door salesman signed us up for a monthly plan. We got a volume every month or so-took us over two years to get the whole set.”

“Well, ancient history hasn’t changed since then. The information inside will still do,” Ian said.

“I guess you have a point there,” the old man said. “Sure, come by next week. I’ll make you boys my sainted mother’s Irish stew, that’ll put hair on your chest.”

“I don’t have a term paper to write,” Mickey lied. He did actually need to write one about Marie Curie. Ian gave him a come the fuck on look, and Mickey relented. “Mine’s on Marie Curie, maybe she’s not in that set.”

Ian thought for a moment, trying to remember what he knew about the scientist.

“She should be in there,” Mr. O’Reilly said. “They were published before she died, but after she won her Nobel Prizes.”

“There you go, Mickey. You can start the paper here and then hit the library some Saturday to get the end of her life stuff.” Ian smiled at him hopefully, willing him to say he’d come back.

“All right,” Mickey said. “Uh, thanks for letting us have use of the books, sir.”

Ian beamed at Mickey’s display of manners.

They went back the following Sunday and went upstairs to work on their papers. Ian got out the P volume and handed Mickey the C book, and they set up at the two small desks that were in the room. Mickey noticed the pictures that had been inside the night table drawer were now sitting on top of it, and he pointed it out to Ian. Then they got down to work.

After a couple of hours, Mr. O’Reilly called up and told them the stew was ready. Ian stretched, raising his hands as high as he could and arching his back. Mickey couldn’t help but stare. They made their way downstairs, and Mr. O’Reilly motioned to them to sit at the kitchen table. He added a healthy dollop of Irish whiskey to the stew, gave it a stir, and began dishing it up.

“My ma’s secret,” he said with a wink. “Add the whiskey right before you dish it up so it doesn’t cook off.”

Mickey gave him a big smile. That was the type of cooking tip he could work with.

The stew was delicious, the lamb was tender, the potatoes just right, and the whiskey added a nice kick.

“Warms ya up on a cold day. Told you boys it’d put hair on your chests,” Mr. O’Reilly said, nodding with approval as the young men ate heartily. He gave them both seconds.

“This is so good, Mr. O’Reilly,” Ian said when he finally came up for air. “Thank you for making it-and for letting us use your books.”

“Want to thank you lads for cleaning up so good for me. I hadn’t seen that room up there looking like that for over thirty years.” Mr. O’Reilly was enjoying a glass of whiskey with his stew, and it seemed to make him more talkative.

“We, uh, we noticed you put the pictures up. They look nice,” Ian said.

“My sons,” the old man said quietly. “They died in the Great War.”

“Together?” Ian asked, his voice soft.

“No, in different battles, months apart.” The older man was quiet for a minute. “Then influenza hit the States and my wife died too. I think she actually died of a broken heart.”

Mickey bit down on his lower lip. He didn’t know what to say to all that sadness, but he did feel bad for the man.

“Well,” Mr. O’Reilly said, shaking his head to break free from the past, “I do have to say, that going up there after you boys left last week and looking around made me realize how much time I had let get away from me. This morning I went to Mass for the first time since my wife’s funeral. Would you believe there are still people going to the same church that I knew way back when? And I found out that single men of a certain age are actually quite sought after for company. I had three widows ask me to come to dinner at their houses this week!”

Ian and Mickey smiled at this news.

“You’re going to take them up on that, ain’t ya?” Mickey asked.

“Bet your buttons,” Mr. O’Reilly answered.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, so Lip and Mandy are a thing now, let's see if their brothers are right to be concerned. 
> 
> And I always loved Ian and Mickey's dynamic working together at the Kash and Grab-and hotwiring the car in Season 7. They make a great team :)


	4. Chapter 4

The weekend before Halloween was homecoming for South High.  There was always a big pep rally before the Friday night football game, and the homecoming dance the following night was more formal than the usual sock hop but less formal than Spring Prom.  The prom was held at an actual hotel ballroom, whereas the homecoming dance was still in the gym so the kids' shoes had to come off.  Girls wore more formal dresses, but not as fancy as they would for prom, and the boys wore suits instead of sports coats, but tuxes were reserved for prom too.  

Mandy surprised Lip when he asked her to the homecoming dance-she said no.  He thought asking her was merely a formality and didn't understand why she turned him down.  He begged Ian to find out for him, and Ian rolled his eyes but did what he thought Lip should've done all along: he asked her why she had said no.  He found her alone between classes and brought her into an empty classroom to talk.

"You'll just think it's stupid," Mandy muttered darkly.  

"You know I'd never think that about you," Ian said, realizing at that moment he did actually think she was a little stupid for being Lip's girlfriend in the first place-she knew as well as Ian did how many girls he had gone through.  "Come on, Mandy.  You can tell me anything.  I won't even tell Lip, if you tell me not to."

Mandy sighed.  "It's just...I don't have anything to wear!"  Ian couldn't help the smile that twitched his lips for a quick second.  Mandy had never sounded like a typical teenage girl to him ever until just then.  

"Yeah, well, laugh it up, Mr. Gallagher.  I won't be there and neither will Mickey.  You won't have anyone fun to talk to all night."

That gave Ian pause.  He had never thought about Mickey not being at a dance, he just always was.  

"Mickey's not going because you're not going?"

"No, he's not going for the same reason I am-nothing to wear," Mandy said.  Ian thought back to the last homecoming dance and realized Mandy hadn't gone to that, and even though he didn't specifically remember if Mickey had been there or not, he guessed he hadn't gone if Mandy wasn't there.  Mandy and Ian hadn't been friends yet at that point.  

"Tell him to borrow something, that's what I'm doing," Ian said.  One of Ian's teammates had an older brother whose outgrown suit was too big for the teammate, but should fit Ian.  "And you should too," Ian added belatedly, realizing he was supposed to be helping his friend here.  

"From who?" Mandy asked, exasperated.  

"I don't...hey, maybe Fiona...or Vee!  Maybe they'd have something you could use," Ian said.  "Come to my house and ask Fi."

"Can I come over tonight after practice, when you're there?  I don't think your sister likes me very much."

"That's not true, she likes you, she's just worried Lip is going to muck up.  But, yes, if you want me to be there, I will be."

Mandy gave Ian a quick hug and started for the door to get to her next class.  

"And Mandy?  Don't forget to tell Mickey..."  But she was already out the door.  

Veronica happened to be at Ian's house when he and Mandy asked about borrowing a dress, but neither she nor Ian's sister had anything that seemed appropriate.  Anything on the fancy side that they pulled out of their closets was a bit too low cut and adult for a high school dance.  

"That's that, then," Mandy said dejectedly, looking at the dresses strewn across Fiona's bed.  "These are all more like cocktail dresses...oh, wait.  My mom had a dark blue satin dress; I think it's still in the crawl space in our house.  I wonder if it would fit me?"

"It's worth a shot," Fiona said.  

"It's probably all mashed up and ruined, if it's even up there," Mandy said.

"Well, go get it-we've been known to work miracles," Vee said.  "Let's take a look at it before we say it's a lost cause."

Mandy's eyes lit up.  "Really?  You would help me?  You can get wrinkles out of satin?"  

"Girl, I grew up making do-go get that dress and let me see what we've got to work with," Veronica said.  

Mandy grabbed Ian's hand and took off down the stairs with him.  At the Milkoviches', Ian talked to Mickey while Mandy rummaged around in the messy crawl space trying to find the wooden box that held her mother's things since she died.  

"Hey, uh, I'm borrowing a suit from Harrison's big brother for the homecoming dance.  I bet one of the other guys might have..."  

"Save it, Gallagher.  I ain't asking anyone for handouts," Mickey said, suddenly pretending to be interested in the homework he hadn't been doing since Ian and Mandy hadn't been there to do it with.  

Ian's heart sank, but before he could think of anything else to say, Mandy rushed into the room.  

"Found it," she said, out of breath.  "Come on, Ian.  Let's get back to your house."  

Ian gave Mickey a wounded puppy look, but followed her out.  

Back at Ian's house, Fiona and Vee and Mandy got to work on the dress, deeming it just suitable enough for the dance.

"You'll definitely be the most adult looking schoolgirl there, but this will do," Fiona said, holding the dress up by its straps in front of Mandy.  Ian left them to it and went to his room to start on his homework and tried not to brood about Mickey not being at homecoming.  

Meanwhile, Mickey was talking to Iggy.

“Yo, we in good with Ferraro these days?” Mickey asked. With Terry in the can, Mickey didn’t pay as close attention to who his family was feuding with and who they could broker deals with.

“Yeah, always, why?” Iggy asked.

“I need a suit for that dumb dance this weekend…now that Mandy’s going,” he added hurriedly. “Gotta keep her outta trouble. You mind finding out if Ferraro will lend me a suit? I’ll pay him if I have to…”

Ferraro’s was the local funeral parlor most of the neighborhood would use when needed. The undertaker’s father had been a tailor by trade, and Ferraro junior had learned some basics about mending, so sometimes when a widow would bring in a choice of suits for her dearly departed, Ferraro would offer a couple bucks off his services to keep the suits that he’d patch up as necessary and then when less well-to-do folks needed a burial outfit, he more than made his money back with the second-hand clothes. His business expanded when live men started coming to him for outfits to wear to court dates and such. Mickey just wanted a loaner, but he figured Ferraro might be willing to rent him a suit for one night.

A few days later, Iggy brought Mickey a suit.

“Gus was happy to help, said Terry’s kept him in business for years,” Iggy laughed. “He even threw in this tie for you to keep, but I want it after the dance.”

Mickey was looking at the suit with a critical eye. “This wasn’t on any dead guy, was it?” Mickey asked.

“No, candy ass, he don’t do that-no one would buy any of his suits off him if he did,” Iggy insisted.

“Looks a little big…” Mickey said.

“Closest thing he had to fittin’ me, and I figured we’re close in size,” Iggy shrugged.

Mickey sighed. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, after all.

The night of the Homecoming Dance, Mickey was getting dressed and yelled for Iggy to bring him the tie. Iggy stomped to his room and brought the tie to Mickey where he was finishing up getting ready in the bathroom. Mickey took the tie from him and really looked at it for the first time.

“Iggy! I can’t wear this!”

“Why the fuck not?”

“It’s got a naked lady on it, that’s why the fuck not! I can’t wear this to a high school dance!” The tie was adorned with a topless woman wearing a Hawaiian grass skirt.

“It’s hand painted!” Iggy yelled, like that made a difference. “On genuine silk!”

Mandy was standing in the doorway now, tapping her foot, impatient to leave.

“Just keep your jacket buttoned over it, Mickey,” she snapped. “Come on, move your ass!”

They drove over to the Gallagher house and went inside. Lip (who was wearing a suit of Frank’s) had a white carnation corsage for Mandy, which he slipped over her wrist.

“You look…like a movie star, Mandy,” Lip said in amazement.

Mandy blushed. “It’s all thanks to your sister and Veronica, they altered the dress and did my hair.” The midnight blue dress had to be taken in a little to fit Mandy’s lithe frame, and the older girls had swept Mandy’s hair up into a chignon at Vee’s mother’s hairdressing shop. She really did look beautiful and grown up. Lip couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“Where’s Ian?” Mickey’s impatient voice broke their eye lock.

“He’s already at the school-volunteered to be on the set up committee,” Lip said.

Mickey pursed his lips together. Of course he did. Now Mickey was going to be stuck chauffeuring these two over and they’d probably be making out in the back seat the whole way.

When they got to the dance, Ian came over to them right away. Mickey was fussing with his collar-damn shirt was too tight and the damn suit was too big.

“Hey, Mickey, you look nice! That suit is boss!” Ian gushed. He barely glanced at Mandy, told her she looked pretty, and then focused on Mickey again. “I thought you weren’t coming?”

“Found a suit-don’t make a big deal out of it,” Mickey said gruffly, looking away for a second, but his eyes were drawn right back to Ian, who could fill a suit nicely. Mickey gave him a quick once over. “It’s ah, a little too big on me,” Mickey added quietly.

“Well, it looks great,” Ian said. “And that maroon silk tie goes nicely with your hair.”

Mickey squirmed a bit-what the hell was Gallagher talking about? “Well, these cuffs hanging halfway over my hands all night is gonna drive me nuts,” Mickey said, just to have something to grouse about.

“Here,” Ian said, taking the rose boutonniere off his lapel and pinning it on Mickey’s. “Now people’s eyes will be drawn up there, and away from your cuffs,” he smiled.

“Who the hell gave you a flower?” Mickey spoke aloud before he thought about it.

“All the candidates for Homecoming King were provided with them,” Ian said.

“Well, shouldn’t you keep it then?” Mickey said.

“Naw, we all know Ted Martin’s gonna win,” Ian said, referring to the captain of the basketball and baseball teams. “A senior always wins.”

“Well, uh, thanks,” Mickey said, looking down at the flower on his chest. He looked up at Ian. “You have some…” Mickey brushed away some of the tiny white flower petals from the boutonniere that had fallen onto Ian’s lapel. The boutonniere was made up of a red rose bud, some type of little fern, some baby’s breath, and a dark green ribbon.

“Oh, thanks,” Ian said, looking down. “Did the pin leave holes? Harrison’s mother threatened my life if I did anything to the suit. She thinks Harrison will grow into it one day.”

Mickey ran his thumb over Ian’s lapel, his hand resting for a moment on Ian’s chest. Mickey could feel Ian’s body heat through the layers of cloth. “Uh, no,” Mickey said distractedly. “I mean, I can feel little holes where the pin went through, but you can’t see them.” He finally took his hand away from Ian’s chest and let the cuff of his jacket fall back over the heel of his hand.

The dance was mostly like any other, except Mandy and Lip cut out early and were off who knows where doing who knows what. Ian and Mickey danced with the wallflowers as usual, just not for almost every dance like they usually did. They found themselves talking to each other more than usual, sitting out every other dance or so instead of just talking between songs like they normally would. Mickey told himself it was because he was hot since he couldn’t unbutton his suit coat-he needed more breaks between dances and Gallagher was sticking by him so he wouldn’t be bored. Mickey felt like he laughed more that night than he ever had in his life.

Time flew by and before they realized that the night was almost over, the principal was calling all the Homecoming king and queen candidates to the stage to announce the winners. Ian had been correct about Ted Martin winning, and all the other candidates were designated as the “Homecoming Court” so they had to stay on the little riser while the yearbook photographer snapped pictures of the group. Mickey was watching from the audience, thinking how good Gallagher looked up there. He stood out with his height and red hair, but it was more than that. Mickey was noticing how handsome Ian looked smiling for the pictures. Ian’s eyes scanned the crowd and when he caught Mickey’s eye he broke into an honest to goodness smile that took over his whole face, as opposed to his polite picture pose expression. Mickey felt himself smiling back, but then turned his head to see if anyone was looking at him. When his eyes drew his attention back to Ian, Ian was still looking at him and his big smile reappeared again. Mickey couldn’t help it, the smile was back on his face as well.

The lights were turned down low for the last dance of the night, and Ian was paired with one of the Queen’s court and Mickey asked one of the wallflowers to dance with him. Ian and Mickey wound up only a few feet from one another, and instead of looking at the girls they were dancing with, they wound up looking into each other’s eyes as the final song of the evening played-I Can Dream Can’t I by the Andrews Sisters.

Dream on, dream on

I can see No matter how near you'll be You'll never belong to me But I can dream, can't I Can't I pretend That I'm locked in the bend of your embrace For dreams are just like wine And I am drunk with mine

I'm aware My heart is a sad affair There's much disillusion there But I can dream, can't I Can't I adore you Although we are oceans apart I can't make you open your heart But I can dream, can't I

I'm aware My heart is a sad affair There's much disillusion there But I can dream, can't I Can't I adore you Although we are oceans apart I can't make you open your heart But I can dream, can't I

(Dream on, dream on, dream on) I can dream, can't I

When the song ended, they barely took the time to say thank you to their dance partners and rushed over to each other. Neither of them knew what they were going to say, but they never got a chance to come up with something because Lip suddenly reappeared, his tie askew and his hair a mess.

“Where’s Mandy?” Mickey barked at him.

“Powdering her nose,” Lip said, grinning.

Ian leaned in and spoke directly into Lip’s ear so Mickey wouldn’t hear. “I suggest you go do the same-you’ve got lipstick smeared all over your face and neck.”

“Those aren’t the only places…” Lip smirked.

“Fucking go, before Mickey notices and kicks your ass,” Ian hissed.

“I’ll be right back,” Lip said, making a quick exit.

Ian and Mickey stood awkwardly, watching him go. They both still felt the lingering effects of that last song. Even though they were standing right next to each other, they both felt like they were pining for something, something they couldn’t have.

Mandy and Lip finally returned and they all piled into Mickey’s car to drive home. After the dance, it was a school tradition to go down to the lake and have a big bonfire. The cops turned a blind eye to teens breaking the midnight curfew that night, as long as things didn’t get out of hand. But when they got to the Gallaghers’ house, Fiona said she didn’t want Ian and Lip to go-the lake was too far from the El and the buses didn’t run that late at night. Mickey spoke up and said they could go in his car. Fiona gave him a long look, taking in his duck’s ass hairdo that Fiona would personally wash right out of Ian’s hair and then kick his ass if he ever tried to look like that.

Before Fiona could open her mouth to protest that she didn’t trust Mickey as a person and she especially couldn’t trust him not to drink at the bonfire, Mickey quickly said, “Ian can drive us.”

Ian couldn’t believe it. Mickey never let anyone drive his car, ever.

Mickey and Mandy ran home to change into casual clothes quick before Fiona could change her mind. They were in such a hurry to get back that Mickey didn’t bother trying to find his coat.

Ian drove them to the lake, nervous the entire time he was going to do something to Mickey’s pride and joy. Ian silently thanked the heavens above when they made it to the spot without him grinding the gears once.

They all piled out of the car, Lip and Mandy holding hands and taking off ahead of Mickey and Ian. When Ian went to hand the keys over to Mickey, he noticed for the first time that Mickey was only wearing a sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off and jeans and his ankle boots. There was a stiff breeze blowing in from the lake and the late October night was chilly. Ian took off his letterman jacket and handed it to Mickey after Mickey had pocketed his car keys.

“You want me to hold this for you?” Mickey asked.

“I want you to put it on, I’m freezing just looking at you,” Ian said.

“Won’t you be cold without your jacket?”

“Naw, I’m wearing a thermal shirt under this flannel. Besides, the fire will keep me warm when we get to it, come on,” Ian said, headed for the path down to the lake.

They all had fun at the bonfire. Ian and Mickey wandered from group to group together, spending most of their time talking to their teammates, but they did drift into conversations with Mickey’s shop guys and the girls they’d usually dance with at the sock hops. Mickey kept Ian’s jacket on even when they were standing close to the fire where it was hot. The night flew by and after a few hours kids were starting to head home.

“Think we should go look for Mandy and Lip?” Ian asked.

“I’m afraid of what we’ll find,” Mickey said, only half joking.

Luckily they didn’t have to find out, Lip and Mandy appeared as a group of kids blocking their view of their siblings walked away.

“Anybody hungry?” Lip asked. “Tiny’s is open.”

“Tiny’s” was a diner in South Side. Lip worked there as a busboy whenever he could grab a shift that didn’t run too late. The diner was open twenty four hours, but Fi didn’t like Lip having to get home from an even worse part of town late at night.

Mickey said he could eat and Mandy said she was ravenous, which earned her a hard stare from her brother. He did not want to think about what she had been doing all night to work up an appetite.

Ian drove them over to the diner and when they got out of the car Mickey tried to give him his jacket back.

“Better keep it on,” Ian said, “Tiny never turns the heat on till the first snowfall.”

Lip and Mandy were ahead of them and they slid into a booth, both sitting on the same side, so Ian and Mickey had to sit side by side as well across the table from them. Ian threw his arm up over the back of the seat while Mandy passed out menus to everyone from the little metal rack on the table.

The diner was virtually empty, it was too early for the early shift working crews to be there for their breakfast yet, and past the hour that late night club goers usually stopped in for some food to soak up the alcohol they’d been drinking. Only one waitress was on duty, and she came over with a full coffee pot after the kids got settled.

“Hi, Lip!” she said. “Ian, good to see you! It’s been a while.” Flossie had known the kids for years, even before Lip started working there. All the full time staff at Tiny’s switched shifts periodically, so no one got stuck working all overnights unless they wanted to. “Everybody want coffee?”

They all nodded and flipped over the coffee cups that were set at the table. As she was filling them Lip said, “Hey, while it’s quiet in here, why don’t you join us, Flossie?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” she said, grabbing a cup and saucer off a nearby table and filling it. “Let me just go put this back on the burner and I’ll be right back-I’ll grab some cream too.”

She hustled off and when she came back to the table she put the cream pitcher down and then slid into the same booth seat as Mickey and Ian. Mickey had to scoot closer to Ian to make room and he stopped when their legs were pressed together. Mickey could feel the warmth coming off Ian’s body even through the jacket and thought he should feel uncomfortable being that close to Ian, but he realized he liked it.

The waitress talked with them till her coffee was gone asking them about the dance and the bonfire and admiring how Mandy’s hair had held up.

“Lip’s sister and her friend used an entire can of hairspray on it,” Mandy grinned.

Other kids were starting to drift into the diner, so Flossie got back on her feet and took their orders and they ate a hearty breakfast. Ian drove them home and was handing the keys back over to Mickey in the weak light just before the dawn. Mandy and Lip were still in the backseat, saying their goodbyes, so Mickey lit up a smoke, knowing he had a couple of minutes before Lip got out of his car.

“Fun night, huh?” Ian smiled.

“Yeah,” Mickey said. “Tired now though. Glad I can sleep all day.” He noticed Ian was sort of just staring at him, the smile still on his face.

“What?” Mickey asked.

“What what?” said Ian.

“What are you smiling at me for?”

“Am I? I must just be happy, being around you,” Ian said.

Mickey’s left eyebrow raised and fell quickly, but he didn’t say anything. He kept puffing on his cigarette, a little smile of his own on his lips.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fun research fact from this chapter: hair spray in cans started in the 1940s. 
> 
> So the pining has officially begun! Feelings are being felt too strongly to ignore! Fluff is popping up at and after the dance!


	5. Chapter 5

In November Mickey asked Ian, "Uh, would you get points or credit or a badge or whatever if we brought a couple of old ladies I know Thanksgiving dinner?"  They were standing next to Mickey's car after Monday's football practice while Mickey finished off a post-workout smoke.  He was looking across the parking lot while he asked Ian, but then his eyes flicked over and met Ian's briefly, before looking away again.  

 

"Yeah, I probably would," Ian said, thinking it over.  "You know a couple of old ladies?"

 

"Um, yeah.  They live in a little house in Andersonville.  They don't have much, and they're gettin' on in years.  Thought maybe you and me could make them a dinner and bring it over Wednesday.  Maybe even make an apple pie Tuesday after practice and bring that too."  

 

"That sounds like a good idea, Mick.  I'll do it even if it doesn't get me a badge."

 

Mickey smiled and pitched the end of his cigarette away.  "Cool.  I'll buy the ingredients and bring them over to your house."  

 

"My house?  We're gonna cook at my house?" Ian wondered why.  

 

"My animal brothers would eat up everything as soon as it was done," Mickey explained.  "Better to do it at your place."

 

Mickey had been scraping together the money to buy a small turkey and all the fixings and pie ingredients for a few weeks, and Ian was surprised he was such a good cook.  Ian was regulated to all the grunt work-peeling, chopping, boiling water-while Mickey did the real mixing and creating.  The pie came out picture perfect, and on Wednesday everything smelled wonderful and had Ian's mouth watering.   

 

"How did you learn to be such a good cook?" Ian asked admiringly, as he and Mickey were putting the mashed potatoes and squash and stuffing into large Mason jars to bring to the ladies.  

 

"Had to be after my mom died," Mickey shrugged.  "No one else in the family could make anything barely edible.  It was either figure it out or starve."  

 

They loaded the food in the car and Mickey drove them over to Andersonville.  The house was little, but in a much nicer neighborhood than where the boys lived.  

 

The two little old ladies-Doris and Stella-turned out to be Mickey's mother's aunts.  Mickey explained on the ride over that they had never married, had always lived together, and that they had had it tough since the Great Depression.  

 

"They had saved and invested from all their years of working, but lost most of it.  Luckily the house was paid off, and they each get a small pension, but it's not really enough to live on," Mickey explained.  

 

The inside of the house had echoes of former prosperity.  The furniture was old and run down, but even Ian, who hadn't been exposed to much grandeur, could tell it had been quality stuff in its day.  The chairs and couch were covered in velvet-dusty and faded now, but it must've been quite plush when new.  Mickey was nervously fussing with the crocheted doilies, standing behind the back of the couch that Ian was sitting on, while his great aunts got acquainted with Ian while the food was reheating in the oven.  These ladies were the closest thing Mickey had ever had to grandparents, and he desperately wanted them to like Ian, and for Ian to like them.  

 

He needn't have worried.  Once Mickey had proudly explained that Ian was a Boy Scout and the captain of the football team, they were duly impressed, but it was his sweet disposition and impeccable manners that truly warmed their hearts.  They also admired his tall frame and red hair.  

 

"Yeah, he stands out in a crowd," Mickey said, more relaxed once the aunts had voiced their approval.  "All six feet of him."  

 

Ian blushed and tried to somehow look smaller on the delicate velvet couch.  As for Ian's take on the aunties, he loved them at first sight.  They were both kind and warm and had blue eyes that reminded him of Mickey's.  He could see the family resemblance.  They spent a lovely afternoon enjoying the meal and the aunts told stories about Mickey as a child that Ian loved hearing.  Mickey was shy about it, but every time Ian laughed he couldn't help but smile.  He even reminded the great aunts of a story or two that they would take over and tell Ian all the details.  By the time the boys were leaving Ian had thoroughly charmed the women by being his sweet self.  Both great aunts kissed him on the cheek and told him he was welcome any time.  Mickey grinned up at Ian while the aunts grabbed his face to tell him thank you and that they loved him and to drive safe and plant kisses on his cheeks too.  

 

On the drive home Ian thanked Mickey for letting him meet the aunts.  "They're so sweet," Ian said, a smile on his face thinking back over the afternoon.  

 

"And short," Mickey said with a little chuckle.  "I always forget till I see them again how little they are."  Both sisters were barely over five feet tall, maybe five two in their little old fashioned proper lady shoes that had a bit of a heel to them.  "In my memories, they're taller than I was as a kid."  

 

"You know, Mick, I'm not six feet tall."

 

"Huh?" Mickey said, looking over at Ian with a puzzled look before giving his attention back to the road.

 

"You've said I was a couple of times now, but I'm actually five foot ten and three quarters."

 

"Is that so?" Mickey said, and shook his head a little, wondering why this was so important to Ian.

 

"You're just so good with numbers and all," Ian said.  "I thought you'd want to know."

 

On Thanksgiving Day, Ian was restless.  He couldn't put his finger on what was off, but he felt like he was lonely, despite all his family being around him (except for his mother of course, they never saw her anymore).  The house was full to bursting with his siblings, Frank, and Vee and Kevin all there, all of them getting louder and louder the longer the day went on.  Ian finally went outside to get away from the noise.  Outside he was lonelier than ever though.  He wandered to the back of the house aimlessly, and saw a metal rake leaning against the house.  He picked it up to put it in the cellar so it wouldn't get any rustier than it already was, but then he had a thought.  

 

He went inside and changed into a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and his Chuck Taylor sneakers and his coat.  Then he went back outside, picked up the rake, and walked over to Mickey's.  

 

Mandy answered the door, but Ian asked if she could send Mickey out to him.  Inside the house it was as loud and rowdy as it had been over at the Gallaghers', the holiday meal was over and people were definitely a few drinks in here as well.  

 

Mickey came outside and shut the door behind him after Mandy had told him Ian was there to see him.

 

"What's up?" Mickey said, a half-smoked cigarette bouncing on his lip as he spoke.  Ian gazed at him for a moment, feeling the loneliness ebb right out of him.  "Gallagher?" Mickey prompted.  

 

"Huh?  Oh!  Um, well, we ate dinner at my house and then there really wasn't anything to do..." The coach had given the team Wednesday and Thursday off, just warned them they better come to play on Friday night or they'd live to regret it.  "...and I saw this rake outside, and I was going to put it away, but then I remembered how your aunts' lawn was all covered in leaves, and since I didn't have anything to do, I wondered if maybe we could go over there and rake it for them?"  Ian suddenly felt like an idiot.  Mickey was going to shoot this idea down for sure.   

 

"Good idea," Mickey said.  "Let me get my coat and my keys."  He opened the door, yelling, "Iggy!  Do we have a fuckin' rake?" as he walked inside.  

 

Turns out the Milkoviches didn't have a rake, but Ian said he was sure he could handle raking up the yard himself.  It wasn't a big lawn, but since the houses were further apart than where Ian and Mickey lived, and because actual trees grew there, there was quite a bit of fallen leaves in the yard.  

 

The great aunts were delighted to see them again, and pleased that Ian wanted to make their yard look nice.  The boys went outside to get to work before the early November sunset.  While they were out there a middle aged man came out from the house next door.  

 

"Are you boys the ladies' grandsons?" he called over the fence.

 

"Yeah," Mickey said, figuring it wasn't worth explaining the exact relationship.  

 

"Hello!  My in-laws live here next door," he smiled.

 

"Good for you," Mickey muttered, but Ian spoke over him with a, "Nice to meet you."  

 

"My father-in-law has a rake in his shed, would you like to borrow it?"

 

"Yes, uh, that would be helpful, thank you," Mickey said.  Ian always loved it when Mickey's manners came out despite his best efforts to always be a bad ass.  

 

The man returned quickly with a nicer rake than Ian's, plus a folded up tarp under his arm.  "Thought maybe you boys could rake the leaves into this, and my father-in-law could bring them to the dump this weekend, to get them out of the way.  

 

"Gee, thanks, that's a good idea," Ian said.  "You sure he won't mind?"  

 

"Not at all-that's what he did with his own leaves when my kids raked them up for him this fall."  

 

Mickey and Ian got to work and had the yard raked up in no time.  They dragged the tarp full of leaves over to the neighbors, then Ian ran back to retrieve the borrowed rake while Mickey thanked the man and his father-in-law at their back door for helping out.  

 

When Mickey was dropping Ian off at his house, he leaned across the seat before Ian shut the car door as he stood outside it and said, "That was a good idea you had, Ian.  Thanks for thinking of my great aunts."  

 

Ian beamed a smile at Mickey.  "Anytime.  Thanks for bringing me over there-both days."  

 

"See ya at the game tomorrow," Mickey said, as he sat back up and put his hands on the wheel.  

 

"Miss ya," Ian said, as soon as the car turned out of sight as the corner.  

 

November brought the end of football season.  With the wins South High had they made a run at the city championship, but got knocked out in the semifinals.  Still, it was the furthest the school had ever gone in the playoffs.  

 

The night of their last game (a respectable effort against a team that was much bigger and burlier than theirs), scouts from colleges all over the mid-west were at the game.  Coach Williams told Mickey to come find him after he had showered and dressed, some scouts wanted to meet him.  Mickey scowled but nodded, while Ian was very excited and happy for Mickey.  Ian waited outside the bus the team had taken to the downtown football field for the game, and he watched as the coach introduced Mickey to a half dozen men in heavy overcoats and fedoras.  Even from where Ian was standing, he could see the looks on the men's faces turn from avid interest to scowls when they looked at Mickey and took in his hair and his black leather jacket and boots.

 

Ian waited till the bus dropped the team off at the school and he and Mickey were in the car before he asked Mickey how meeting the college scouts went.  

 

"Who cares?" Mickey said, starting up the engine.  "I ain't going to college anyway, waste of time talking to those guys."

 

"What do you mean you're not going to college?  You could get a scholarship..."

 

"What world are you livin' in?"  

 

"Mick..."

 

"Ian, no.  It's not for people like me.  Strike one is my family.  Strike two is my grades.  Strike three was the way those guys looked at me tonight.  I'm nothing more than a hood, a troublemaker, and they don't want me on their precious campuses."  

 

"Mickey, I know you could get to college if you'd try..." Ian tried again.

 

"Ian," Mickey sighed, "I know you mean well, but...it's just not for me, okay?  I hate school, I hate book learning...I don't want to go."  Mickey left out that with absolutely no money to live on, even having a scholarship wouldn't pay for clothes or books or food. He didn’t need Gallagher pitying his situation in life.

 

"But..."

 

"Ian!  It's my life, okay?  You wishing it was somethin' it ain't isn't helping."  Mickey hated raising his voice to Ian, but he just wasn't getting through to him otherwise.  

 

"Okay," Ian said sullenly.  

 

Mickey looked over at him, cursing himself when he saw Ian's head was down.  He looked so dejected.  "Hey-wanna go to the malt shop?  I heard the guys saying they were going to have a ‘so what we didn't win’ party."

 

"Really?" Ian said, his head popping back up in surprise.  The team-and about half the school-always went to the malt shop after games, but Mickey never wanted to go.  

 

"Yeah, really.  Come on, let's go have some fun."  

 

The place was already crowded when they got there, but a group of their teammates let them squish into their booth.  Once again Mickey and Ian were pressed right up against each other, feeling the warmth coming off the other.  They both ordered burgers, and Ian got his with onion rings and Mickey got his with fries so they could share those, and they spent the whole meal bumping hands when they'd reach onto each other's plates for the fried food.  They both laughed a lot and joked with their teammates and the night and the season ended on a high note.  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took the liberty of giving Mickey some relatives from an older generation that aren't terrible.


	6. Chapter 6

Since football season was over, Ian went back to working more shifts at the grocery store. He missed seeing Mickey after school every day at practice, and he really missed riding in Mickey’s car, just the two of them, laughing and talking. Mandy was spending more and more time at his house with Lip, so Ian wasn’t going to the Milkoviches most nights to do homework anymore either. 

After a couple of weeks of that, Mickey started coming into the store after school to buy an item here one day, and then coming back a couple of days later to pick up something else. He’d always wait around till he at least saw Ian to say hello. 

“How’s trig going?” Mickey asked one day, watching Ian carry a big wooden crate of onions to the produce section.

“Ugh,” Ian groaned, rolling his eyes. “It’s as hard as ever for me. Lip tries to help, but he always has to explain everything, especially in front of Mandy-he wants to show off everything he knows. I don’t need the entire history of the subject, I need to know how to do the problems in the book.”

“I could help you with it, if you want,” Mickey said, pretending to be interested in the radishes on display.

Ian lit up. “Yeah? You’d do that for me?”

Mickey glanced at him without turning from the radishes. “Yeah. I’ll pick you up after work, we can eat at my place and then crack the books. What time are you done here?” 

And just like that, Ian and Mickey were back to spending time together. Mickey was reading The Red Badge Of Courage for his English class, so Ian got a copy from the school library and they read it and discussed it together. Ian got a fifteen minute break every time he worked an after school shift and Mickey usually turned up right around the time he got to take it, and they’d go out back and Mickey would smoke while they caught each other up on their day. 

Christmas that year was on a Tuesday, so they had a nice long break from school once they were released on Friday the twenty-second. Mickey went to Ian’s store on Saturday and asked him if he wanted to help Mickey bake a pie after work to bring to the great aunts on Sunday. Ian of course said yes and Mickey bought the ingredients and told Ian he’d be there to drive him home when his shift ended.

At Ian’s house, they got to work making the pie after eating dinner with Ian’s family. Mickey had Ian chop up pecans while he made the crust. The dough had to be refrigerated for about forty-five minutes, so Mickey took his time making the filling, letting Ian do most of the steps while he explained them, since Ian seemed interested in learning. They joked and laughed a lot too, but Ian was just as invested as Mickey in making the pie come out right for the ladies. 

When Mickey rolled out the pie crust and put it in the pan, he had some dough left over. 

“You got a muffin pan?” he asked Ian. Ian went searching in the cabinets and found one. Mickey greased a couple of the cups with shortening and put the left over pie crust dough into those, and made a couple of mini-pies to go along with the big pie. He put everything into the oven and they sat down to wait. Ian made them coffee and they sat at the kitchen table talking about whatever thoughts crossed their minds. 

Fiona came in just as Mickey was taking the muffin pan out of the oven, having judged the smaller pies had cooked long enough. 

“Something smells wonderful,” Fiona said, kissing Ian on the cheek as he sat at the table. “Mickey, if you were a couple years older, I’d be dating you for your cooking.”

Mickey blushed furiously and pretended to be busy at the stove. Ian gave him a big smile that he caught just as he was turning around though. 

“Ian, I promised Vee I’d see her tonight after work-do you think you could put Liam to bed for me?” Fi asked. 

“Of course,” Ian said. She thanked him and flew out the door. 

Mickey was gently lifting the mini-pies out of the pan using a butter knife and letting them slide onto a plate. 

“You be okay down here on your own a few minutes?” Ian asked. “I’ll probably have to read him a story to get him to sleep.”

“I’ll be fine. Do what you gotta do,” Mickey said. 

Ian went up the back stairs and Mickey poured himself another cup of coffee. He sat back down at the table and thought about how much fun the evening had been. A year ago, if someone told him this was what he’d be doing, he would’ve thought they had flipped their lid. He smiled and shook his head. His smile faded as he tried to picture what he’d be doing next Christmas though, and then the Christmas after that Ian would probably be at West Point and out of his life.

Mickey still didn’t understand why Gallagher wanted to be in the army. They were both old enough to remember what a lot of World War II was like. Life in South Side might be tough, but the army during wartime was definitely tougher. Mickey was all for defending his country-or its allies-if it was necessary, but the so called police action the US was mired in now didn’t feel like it was. If South Korea needed help, why was the USA giving most of it? Wasn’t one of the points of forming the United Nations to prevent the heavy lifting of any future wars falling on one country? Not that Mickey had cared about any of this till Ian told him he wanted to go to West Point-then what little Mickey remembered from his sophomore year civics class came back to him. 

The thought of separating from Ian bothered Mickey, although he knew it was inevitable. Hell, it was amazing they still spent as much time together as they did. Mickey really thought the end of football season would be the end of their…friendship or whatever the hell it was. Gallagher just didn’t fit into his life. He couldn’t picture Ian hanging out on the corner, or shooting pool. It wasn’t that Ian couldn’t-everyone in South Side had a reputation, and the Gallagher kids were no exception. Since they were little kids, Lip and Ian were known as the type that rarely started fights, but if they got dragged into one, they’d finish it. You had to give them that. They were both tougher than they looked and scrappy as hell. Even the next one, Carl, was getting that rep on the playground of his elementary school. 

The Milkoviches had a worse reputation than the Gallaghers, and Mickey didn’t want Ian to suffer by association. Mickey-and his brothers and friends-actually had a code and didn’t deserve the reputation they had for fighting dirty. They only resorted to those tactics if the guys who were fighting them pulled them first. And while it was true that all the Milkoviches carried switchblades-along with various other weapons like brass knuckles and butterfly knives-those were all “spoils of war”, items taken off their defeated opponents after a fight. None of the Milkoviches from Terry on down carried a gun-they didn’t need to. Terry might bring a gun on some of his “jobs” (and arm whichever sons and nephews that were going along), but never had one on him when he was just out and about. 

Ian came back downstairs and pulled Mickey from his thoughts. 

“Sorry, that took longer than I thought. It took two and a half stories to get Liam to sleep, he’s really cranked up about Christmas.” Ian sank into the kitchen chair next to Mickey and smiled. He was always happy to get back to Mickey. 

Mickey got up and brought the coffee pot over from the stove and raised his eyebrows at Ian. Ian knew having more coffee would probably make him have a hard time falling to sleep too, but he just didn’t care. He nodded, and Mickey filled his cup. Mickey returned the pot to the stove and picked up the plate with the two little pies on it. He sat down next to Ian and picked one of the pies up and took a bite of it. He wanted to make sure it came out okay before Ian tried it. 

“Mm, sweet,” Mickey said, smiling around the bite he was chewing. “Here.” He held the mini-pie up towards Ian’s mouth. Ian placed his hand on the back of Mickey’s to help guide the pie close enough that he could take a bite. 

“Oh, Mickey,” he moaned as the still warm crust melted on his tongue, “you make the best pie.”

Mickey gave him a cocky grin and gobbled up the rest of the pie into his mouth while pushing the plate with the still intact pie closer to Ian. Ian picked it up and finished it in two big bites.

The next afternoon Mickey came by to pick up Ian. Ian got into the car, placing a small wrapped package on the seat between them.

“What’s that?” Mickey asked, easing the big car down the street.

“Just a can of coffee,” Ian said. “I wanted to give your aunts something for Christmas, but I couldn’t think of anything special.”

“Ian, you didn’t have to, you helped with the pie…”

“But I wanted to,” Ian interrupted. “They’ve been so sweet to me, and I’ve never had any time with my own grandmothers. I kinda…I kinda love them.” He was blushing and worried that Mickey wouldn’t like him annexing his relatives that he’d only met a couple of times to boot. 

“They are pretty lovable,” Mickey grinned, taking his eyes off the empty road to look at Ian for a second. His grin turned into a fond smile and then he looked straight ahead again. 

“I, uh, I had Fiona wrap it for me, since I couldn’t figure out how to wrap a cylinder,” Ian said, because he wanted to fill the silence, and because he wanted Mickey to look at him like that again. “She only had the paper she’s using for the kids’ presents though.” 

Mickey glanced down at the gift and saw the bright paper with cartoon Santa Clauses on it. “They’ll love it,” Mickey assured him. “It’s cheery.”

Now it was Ian’s turn to smile at Mickey for making him feel good about things, and Mickey stole another glance at Ian.

The aunts were delighted to see them, and they brewed up some of Ian’s coffee and sat down to eat Mickey’s pie. Their little dining room was cozy with the late winter afternoon’s goldenly glowing sun coming in through the windows. 

“Excellent pie, Mickey,” “Delicious,” the great aunts praised Mickey after taking their first bite. 

“Ian helped,” Mickey said, tilting his head towards his friend. 

“I just did everything you told me to do, when you told me to do it,” Ian said modestly. 

“That’s how Mickey learned!” Aunt Doris said delightedly. 

“From this very recipe,” Stella added. 

“So now you know the pressure I was under to make sure it came out good,” Mickey said, laughing. 

“I’m glad I didn’t know,” Ian said sincerely. “Is that why you made those little extra pies? For a taste test?”

“Maybe,” Mickey laughed, before taking another bite of his pie. 

Before the boys left, each aunt handed them a small bundle wrapped in tissue paper. Ian carefully unfolded his, but Mickey tore into the paper like a wolverine or some other small feral animal. 

“Oh, wow, you didn’t have to…” Ian said, as he uncovered a scarf knitted from soft wool. He pulled it out, holding it in the middle and looked at it in his outstretched hand. 

“Nonsense, we wanted to,” Aunt Stella said, as she gave his cheek a light pat. 

Ian looked over to Mickey. He too was holding a scarf in his hand. Mickey’s was royal blue, and Ian’s was forest green and off-white in big stripes-South High’s school colors. 

“We thought these colors would bring out both of you boys’ eyes,” Doris said. 

“It’s beautiful, and so soft,” Mickey said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, thank you,” Ian added, giving each aunt a quick kiss too. 

“Now, we’ve washed them, so the color should be set-but when you wash them, always use cold water,” Aunt Doris instructed. 

“And you can let them dry near heat, but don’t put them in a dryer or they’ll shrink,” Aunt Stella added. “You’ll remember?”

“Of course,” Ian said. “A gift this nice…we’ll take good care of them.” 

A couple of days after Christmas the little kids in Ian’s family wanted to go sledding. The night before a fresh powdery six inches of snow had fallen and there was a man made hill at one of the parks nearer to downtown where everyone went to for winter fun. Since Chicago was mostly flat, the city parks department created a good size slope for kids to go sledding on. It was basically a huge pile of dirt that froze solid and got covered with snow. By this point in December it had been snowed on enough to have a good base, and the new snow was going to be fun while it lasted, but the more sleds that went down it, it would turn treacherously icy in almost no time, so the bigger siblings had to be there to make sure no one got hurt. 

Mandy was happy to go to help Ian keep an eye on the kids. Liam was her little buddy and Debbie was her shadow every time she was at the Gallaghers’ house, and even Carl seemed a bit smitten with her. Lip reluctantly agreed to go when Mandy asked (he had flat out refused Ian’s invitation to come help with the kids), and Mandy said she’d ask Mickey to drive them. Even Ian was surprised when Mickey said yes-spending half a day out in the cold with little kids didn’t really seem to be his scene. 

Mickey and Mandy picked up the Gallaghers after lunch and they all piled into Mickey’s car to drive to the hill. Lip, Mandy, Liam, and Debbie all sat in the spacious back seat, and Carl sat between Ian and Mickey up front. Carl had a definite case of hero-worship for Mickey. 

“Swing by the grocery store,” Ian said to Mickey. “I’ll see if there are any cardboard boxes we can flatten out for sleds.”

“Got it covered,” Mickey said. “Shi…stuff’s in the trunk.” 

When they got to the hill, Mickey popped the trunk and pulled out big pieces of flat cardboard that were going to work much better than the flattened boxes they would’ve used from the grocery store. They were bigger and didn’t have folds in them like the boxes would have had.

“These are awesome, Mickey!” Ian said, appreciating more than anyone that he wouldn’t have to try to fold his legs up to fit on a smaller piece. “Where did you get them?”

“My old man knows some mook at the box factory,” Mickey said. “Whenever we need big pieces of cardboard, he lets us take what we need.” Mickey really hoped Ian wasn’t going to ask why his dad would ever need big pieces of cardboard, or big six foot long boxes. Luckily Ian didn’t. 

The sun was shining down brightly, reflecting off the fresh snow, but the air was cold. Ian was wearing his green and white scarf and some black earmuffs instead of a hat. His red hair shone more brightly than anything else around, even more than the sparkly snow. Mickey had a navy beanie covering his hair, and he was wearing his scarf from the aunties too. The younger kids were as bundled up as Fiona could get them. 

Mickey had been able to get four pieces of cardboard, so the group members had to take turns. After just a few runs down the hill, Lip and Mandy ditched them, sneaking off together when Mickey and Ian were busy trudging back up the hill with the kids. Mickey rolled his eyes when he noticed they were missing, but Ian laughed and said now they wouldn’t have to take turns (since Liam needed someone to ride down the hill with him-he was so little and light he’d fly off if someone bigger wasn’t there to hold onto him). 

Liam’s little legs tired of walking back up the hill first, and for a while Ian and Mickey took turns giving him piggyback rides back to the summit. But soon Debbie and Carl were getting tired of hiking up there too, so Mickey organized a snowball fight off to the side of the hill that other folks got into as well. Everyone was laughing and pelting each other, and for the most part it was just in fun, but Mickey had to reel Carl in a little bit, telling him to really unleash only on guys bigger than him and leave little kids alone. 

A group of little kids concentrated an “attack” on Ian, and he fell to his knees in the snow under their onslaught. He was holding up his mittened hands in surrender when he suddenly felt cold snow pouring down his back. He turned his head and saw Mickey and Carl behind him, Carl holding Ian’s coat back at the collar so Mickey could dump some more snow. 

“Oh no, you don’t!” Ian shouted with a laugh, twisting suddenly and pulling Mickey down with a tackle. Carl took the opportunity to switch sides and shoved some snow under Mickey’s scarf while Ian had him pinned down. 

“That’s cold!” Mickey shouted. “Carl, if you don’t want to walk home…” he was cut off by Ian gently mashing snow into his mouth. Mickey was laughing and twisting his head from side to side so the Gallagher brothers couldn’t get any more snow on him. 

Ian let go of Mickey and stood up, then put his hand out to help Mickey up. Mickey gave him a suspicious look.

“Try anything and you really will be walking home, I mean it,” Mickey said.

“I believe you. Come on, fight’s over. I promise.” Mickey took Ian’s hand and let him pull him up from the ground. 

They surveyed the battlefield. The participants seemed worn out, no more snowballs were being thrown or made. People were rosy cheeked and smiling. 

“Lip and Mandy are going to be so sorry they missed this!” Debbie said, leading Liam by the hand over to where her other brothers stood with Mickey. “Wanna go sledding some more?”

Mickey looked over to the spot where they had left their cardboard. “Stuff’s gotten pretty wet, I think our sleds have had it.” They had been starting to fall apart on the last few runs. 

“I could share mine,” a voice from behind them said. The little group turned around and saw a young man around Ian and Mickey’s age, holding a toboggan upright next to him. “I couldn’t help but overhear. My friends I came with had to leave, but I’d like to take a few more runs down the hill.” 

“That’d be great!” Ian smiled, while his little siblings nodded eagerly. “I’m Ian, and this is my sister Debbie, and my brothers Carl and Liam. And this is our friend Mickey.” 

“Alex,” the young man said, sticking his hand out for Ian to shake. He didn’t offer to shake Mickey’s hand. Mickey quietly snorted to himself, taking the guy in as he engaged Ian in a bit of conversation. He was North Side, obviously. His camelhair winter coat was brand new and warm looking, his boots were too. He was just a bit taller than Ian, and he had chestnut hair with a natural curl to it that waved it off his forehead. He kept his hair a bit longer than Ian’s. Ian didn’t have a buzz cut, but he kept his hair short enough that his curls usually lay flat, but today with the wet from the snow and the light sweat he had worked up during the snowball fight, his hair had waves to it too. Alex had big green eyes a shade or two darker than Ian’s and a face handsome enough to be in the movies. He was basically everything Mickey thought he himself wasn’t, and he was already a little jealous of the way Ian was listening to him and watching his eyes while he spoke. 

They all began walking up the hill again, even Liam had renewed energy at the excitement of getting to ride on a real wooden sled. Ian and Alex led the way while Mickey trailed behind them with the kids. Alex said he got the toboggan for Christmas from his grandparents and he and his friends had been having fun with it all day. 

At the top of the hill Alex said, “I think for the first ride, at least, I should be on the back to anchor. Ian, you should sit back there too, since you’re the tallest out of your group. Mickey, is it? Mickey, you should sit in the front for the first ride to steer-the hill’s gotten pretty icy.”

Mickey really didn’t like having to sit up front while Alex got on the back and maneuvered his legs so Ian was sitting between them. Then Debbie got between Ian’s legs, and Carl between hers, and Mickey helped Liam settle in with Carl. 

“Hang on to him tight,” Mickey told Carl, and Carl nodded. Mickey sat in front of Liam, with his legs crossed in front of him like a pretzel. Carl pressed his feet against Mickey’s hips, completely blocking Liam in between them. 

“Everyone ready?” Alex yelled from the back of the sled. A chorus of yeses answered him. “Here we go!” Alex put his arms behind him as far as they would reach and gave a shove. The toboggan started moving and quickly built up speed racing down the icy hill. The ride was fast and fun, even Mickey thought so. At the bottom of the hill they all spilled off the sled, laughing and saying how cool it was. 

“Can we go again?” Debbie asked, her eyes flashing as she jumped up and down in front of Ian and Alex. 

“Sure! Come on!” Alex said, and they went back up and did it again a few more times. Ian offered to switch places with Mickey, but Mickey turned him down. 

The sun was getting lower and lower in the sky, and the hill was turning even icier. And the kids were getting tired of the walk up the hill again. 

“Think we better call it a day, Ian,” Mickey said once they were at the bottom again. 

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Think we should look for Lip and Mandy?” Ian said.

“Naw, they probably took a bus back or something,” Mickey said. “Mandy would know to find me sooner than this if they wanted to ride with us.”

“Thank you, Alex, we had a lot of fun,” Ian said, turning to him again. “Kids, thank Alex for taking us on his toboggan.”

Debbie and Carl thanked him, and then Liam’s shy little voice said, “Thanks, mister.” 

“You’re all welcome, and thank you for keeping my fun going after my friends had to leave,” Alex said. Then to Ian he said, “Can I take you all for some hot chocolate? My treat?” 

“Kids are pretty worn out, Ian,” Mickey said quietly, trying not to glare at Alex.

“Yeah,” Ian said on a sigh. “Thank you, Alex, it’s a generous offer, but it’s getting on towards dinner time, we really need to get these guys fed and into some dry clothes.”

“Oh, of course,” Alex said, looking disappointed. “Could I get your telephone number? I’d like to see you again. Maybe next time just the two of us…?” 

Mickey held his breath. Of course this guy would want to hang out with Ian, and he was just the type person Ian should be hanging out with-would be hanging out with when he went to West Point. Mickey really couldn’t begrudge Ian that. He let his breath out on a sigh.

“Uh, we don’t have a phone,” Ian lied. “But thanks again for sledding with us. It was nice meeting you.” He scooped Liam up into his arms and said to Mickey, “Can you and Carl manage throwing our sleds into the trunk?” 

“We can, um, we can just throw them in the trash here,” Mickey said, his voice a bit dazed. “No sense dragging wet cardboard around.” Carl and Mickey walked over to where they had left their makeshift sleds and rolled them up so they’d fit in the big round metal bins the city had put out for trash near the hill. 

On the ride back Ian asked Mickey if he’d join them for supper. “I figure I can make some grilled cheese sandwiches, and we have a couple of tins of tomato soup, nothing fancy,” Ian added, in case it wasn’t going to be substantial enough for Mickey after a day outdoors. 

“Sounds good, Gallagher,” Mickey said. Before they got to their neighborhood, Mickey took a turn and pulled in to the parking lot of a local business. It was a distribution spot of a dairy from out in the country. This was the location where the milkmen would load up their trucks for their daily runs. Mickey said he’d be right back and he returned with a couple of bottles that he put on the floor by Ian’s feet. He had traded a promise to shovel the building’s sidewalks after the next snow for a bottle of milk and a bottle of cream. He and his brothers had been doing it for years-shoveling in the winter and washing windows or trimming the grass and hedges in the warm months. They had found that was actually less effort than trying to steal stuff off the trucks. 

At Ian’s house, everyone ran upstairs to get into dry, warm clothes while Mickey got the soup started. Ian came down the back stairs into the kitchen with a pile of clothes in his hands. 

“Figured you should get out of your wet things,” Ian said, handing it over to Mickey. It was a pair of sweatpants and a “Property of South High Football” sweatshirt and some socks. “You can change in the bathroom and I can bring your clothes downstairs to dry.” 

“Uh, okay. Thanks,” Mickey said, and went into the bathroom. When he unfolded the sweatpants he was mildly surprised that Ian had put a pair of clean boxers with them. He wondered if he should feel weird about wearing another guy’s underwear, but then figured he’d feel even weirder not wearing any while wearing another guy’s pants, since his jeans had soaked through to his boxers. 

When he came out, Ian was stirring the soup. Mickey looked so warm and snuggly in Ian’s things. They were slightly too big for him, but since the sweatpants had elastic in the cuffs, he wasn’t in any danger of tripping over any extra material. 

“All set? I’ve got the kids’ hats and mittens and stuff to put on the racks downstairs, I can take your stuff too…”

“No! Uh, I can hang my own stuff,” Mickey interrupted, thinking of his underwear. 

“Oh, okay, well, we can both go down,” Ian said. “Debbie! Could you come keep stirring this, please?” 

The boys went down into the basement, and Ian unfolded the wooden drying racks that were stacked up against the wall. They distributed the wet clothing over them. “I’ll wash my clothes and the clothes the kids were wearing tomorrow, and dry them down here,” Ian said, dumping a big armful of wet clothes into a wicker basket. There was a washing machine in the corner of the basement, but no dryer. The Milkoviches didn’t have one either, and their washer was older than the Gallaghers’. 

They went back upstairs and Mickey took over the soup stirring again while Ian heated up a big cast iron pan and started making the grilled cheese sandwiches. 

They sat down to eat-they were all starving after their busy day of exercise. 

“Mickey, this soup is delicious,” Ian said. The kids nodded in agreement, slurping it up. 

“How come it never tastes like this when Fiona makes it?” Debbie asked. “It’s from the same cans she always gives us.”

“I made it with milk and cream,” Mickey said modestly. “She probably only uses milk.”

“She only uses water,” Ian said. “This is so good. I’m always amazed at what you can cook.” He gave Mickey a big smile, and Mickey smiled back.

The kids all went to listen to their favorite programs on the radio after dinner, while Mickey and Ian cleaned up. No one that they knew, no one in the neighborhood even, had a television set. 

Ian was washing the dishes and pans and Mickey dried for him.

“Um, Ian, can I ask you something?” Mickey said shyly. 

“Of course,” Ian said, stopping what he was doing to give Mickey his full attention.

“Why did you tell that guy with the toboggan you don’t have a phone?” 

“I didn’t see the point in trying to be friends with the guy,” Ian shrugged. “We come from different sides of town and we wouldn’t have much in common. Besides, I don’t have time for a new friend.” 

Mickey looked down at the pan he was drying and smiled to himself. The way Ian had emphasized “new” when he said it told Mickey that Ian was quite satisfied with his old friend.

That night Lip finally got home about ten minutes after Mickey left.

“Where were you all day?” Ian asked him.

“Back at Mandy’s. All her brothers were out and, you know, no parents,” Lip managed a wolfish grin around the cigarette he had just stuck into his mouth to light. “I scrammed when Mickey came home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mickey doesn't like guys liking Ian ;)


	7. Chapter 7

For New Year’s Eve, neither Mickey nor Ian wanted to be at their family parties-everyone just got drunk and loud and fights would break out at both.

 

“It’s even worse when my old man’s at home, but even without him, things get pretty rowdy and out of hand,” Mickey said. “Why don’t you just tell your family you’re coming to mine, and I’ll tell my family I’m going to yours. Mandy will know I lied when I’m not there,” (she was going to be with Lip at Ian’s house) “but I don’t care about that. She won’t tell my brothers. I just want to get away from my house that night.”

 

Ian readily agreed to the plan and they tried to think up things they could do that would keep them out of the house. A movie theater nearby was going to show a Marx Brothers double feature before closing early for the night and they thought that would be a great place to start. When the old movies got over at eight, Mickey figured they could go to a Chinese restaurant for a late supper. That would be the only eating place open on New Year’s Eve that wasn’t fancy or a hotel dining room, plus the food would be cheap enough that they could afford it. After that, Mickey figured they could just drive around since they wouldn’t have money to do anything else.

 

They had a great time at the movies, laughing at the antics on screen and sharing popcorn. Every so often their hands would brush when they’d reach for it at the same time, plus their shoulders would keep rubbing against each other when they moved their arms to eat or drink.

 

At the restaurant they were told the wait could be up to an hour, but they didn’t mind. They found seats together in the waiting area and the time flew while they laughed some more at their favorite parts of the films and talked about things in general. It felt like only a few minutes had passed while they waited, and Ian was surprised when he glanced at his watch as they were being seated and saw it was nearly nine o’clock.

 

After they left the restaurant, Mickey drove them around aimlessly for a while, since there wasn’t any particular place they wanted to be. The night was turning foggy-it was one of those rare winter nights when the temperature went up as the night wore on, instead of going down as it normally would.

 

Mickey drove to a spot overlooking the river where kids with cars would park to watch the “submarine races”. It was basically a make out spot, but tonight, as he suspected, the area was pretty much deserted since most people were celebrating the coming of the new year indoors at parties and such. There were a few other cars at the river, but with plenty of space between all of them so they could park and not see into the other cars, and those cars’ occupants couldn’t see them. The fog added to that, encasing them in their own private cloud.

 

“My mom used to say the fog took the snow away,” Mickey said, looking out the windshield. “Of course, once I got older I figured that it’s probably the snow melting into the warmer air that creates the fog, but by then she wasn’t around to talk about it anymore.”

 

Ian looked over at Mickey’s profile and pursed his lips together. He wished he knew what to say. This was the first time ever Mickey had mentioned his mother to him.

 

“I always like foggy nights,” Ian said. “I don’t know why, but they just seem comforting, somehow.”

 

“I think I know what you mean,” Mickey said. “You feel wrapped up or something, everything’s muffled, softer. I’ve always liked them too.” He looked over at Ian and smiled. Despite the fog, the moon was hanging full and bright in the sky, giving the fog a glow and making it possible for them to see each other pretty clearly in the night.

 

They were quiet for a bit, with the radio playing softly. That was another thing they both enjoyed about each other-they didn’t have to be talking all the time to keep things from feeling awkward. Lots of time they were just happy to be near each other, doing nothing in particular.

 

A new song started to play, and they sat there and listened to it all the way through.

 

Here in my heart I'm alone, I'm so lonely Here in my heart I just yearn for you only Here in my arms I long to hold you Hold you so near, ever close to my heart So, darling Say that you care, take these arms I give gladly Surely you know I need your love so badly Here is my heart, my life and my all, dear Please be mine and stay here in my heart Say that you care, take these arms I give gladly Surely you know I need your love so badly Here is my heart, my life and my all, dear Please be mine and stay here in my heart

 

They didn’t look at each other while the song played, but when it ended they both sighed.

 

Ian checked his watch. “Almost midnight,” he said. “It’s almost 1952.”

 

“Yeah,” Mickey said, resting his head on the back of the seat. Personally he’d like to stay in ’51 longer, the year had turned out better than any he could remember. Well, since fall, at least. “Something I’ve always wondered about,” Mickey said, turning his head to look at Ian.

 

“Shoot,” Ian said, looking back at him.

 

“That night of the first sock hop this year-how did you know to come warn me about Coach Williams at the science lab?”

 

Ian laughed a little laugh. “Mandy and I happened to be dancing by the door when Iggy was talking to you and I heard just a bit of what he wanted you to go do, and then we circled over to where the coach was standing and I heard him say to another chaperone he was going to go patrol the halls. I told Mandy I’d be back and took off. When I turned the corner to the east hallway, I saw him out of the corner of my eye coming that way too. It was all just dumb luck-me and Mandy were in the right place at the right time twice.”

 

“I coulda spent the last few months in juvie instead of playing football,” Mickey said. “Did I ever say thanks?”

 

Ian’s face broke into a big, slow smile. He shrugged. “If you didn’t, you’re saying it now, so, you’re welcome.”

 

The announcer on the radio said it was nearly time for the New Year’s countdown-he was broadcasting live from some ballroom at a swanky Chicago hotel downtown. Mickey turned up the radio and joined Ian when he started chanting the numbers along with the radio, even though Mickey felt like a bit of a dork doing so.

 

“…three, two, one, Happy New Year!” Ian crowed, and kissed Mickey on the cheek.

 

Mickey went perfectly still.

 

“Mick, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think-it’s just what my family does when the clock strikes midnight on New Year’s Eve-we all kiss each other.”

 

“Is that how you think of me?” Mickey asked quietly, looking straight ahead out the window again. “Like one of your brothers?”

 

Ian got just as quiet and seriously answered, “No, not at all.”

 

Mickey turned his head to look at Ian, who had been looking at him the entire time. They both leaned closer and then closer still so the tips of their noses bumped. Then they kissed for real, on the lips, and it was a first kiss for either of them. Mickey slid his hand up the back of Ian’s neck into his hair, and Ian grabbed onto Mickey’s bicep through his coat and wrapped his other arm around Mickey’s waist. The kiss was really just a simple pressing of their lips together, their mouths closed. Neither one of them had any experience. It was warm and wonderful all the same though.

 

Mickey pulled back suddenly and stared at Ian for a moment as if he was in shock. Then he scrambled back to his usual position behind the wheel and fumbled with the key and pumped the gas to get the car started. He almost flooded it, but the engine caught just in time.

 

“Mi…” Ian began, but Mickey cut him off.

 

“Sorry about that, Ian. That was a mistake. A big mistake. Gotta get you home.”

 

Ian was too hurt to say anything back.   He went from feeling elated to terrified in less time than it took to draw a breath. He could see Mickey was scared, and everything in him was reacting to that.

 

Mickey didn’t say anything the entire ride to Ian’s house. He turned the radio up loud and drove fast. He slammed on the brakes in front of Ian’s house and kept the car running. He wouldn’t look at Ian and just waited for Ian to get out of the car. Ian reached out and snapped the radio off and had just opened his mouth to speak when his door was wrenched open from the outside and Mandy was there, crying hard.

 

“Mandy…” Ian said in surprise. “Are you okay?”

 

“Ian, please, just get out. I want to go home,” she said, her voice wavering.

 

“But are you…” Ian tried again.

 

“Get out!” Mandy screeched. Ian scrambled out of the passenger seat while he tried to look back at both Mickey and Mandy. Mickey was looking at Mandy with some concern, but he wouldn’t meet Ian’s eye.

Mandy jumped in and shut the door and Mickey took off. Ian wanted to talk to Mickey so badly, but he also wanted to know why Mandy was crying.

In the car, Mickey glanced over at his sister.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” he asked in a soft voice.

“Broke up with Lip,” Mandy said, and then burst into sobs again.

“Why?” Mickey said. He wanted to hit something, and he was ready for it to be Lip. That would give him a certain satisfaction for sure.

“Cheated on me,” Mandy said. Mickey swung the car into a U-turn and was headed back towards the Gallaghers’.

“Mickey, no!” Mandy protested. “Don’t-turn around again, take me home. It’s not really his fault, he didn’t really cheat.”

“You want me to believe you just lied about that?” Mickey said incredulously.

“No! I didn’t lie…but he didn’t cheat. Please turn the car around.” Mandy waited till Mickey got the car facing in the direction of their house again before she continued speaking. “He told me from the start that he would still see other girls. He gave me the option not to start dating him. I knew he didn’t want to go steady, he told me that right off the bat. I just…I stupidly thought that when I gave myself to him, he wasn’t going to keep seeing other girls.”

Mickey was about to pull another U-turn.

“Mickey! What are you doing? Take me home!”

“He took advantage of you? Got you to go all the way, thinking that’d make him yours?”

“No! It wasn’t like that! I wanted to…it was my idea, all right? I really, really liked him, and it felt good when we did everything else, I couldn’t wait to try…Mickey, honest, when we started doing it, it was my decision. I fooled myself into thinking if he was all I needed then I was all he wanted.”

“Fuck, Mandy.”

“I know! I was stupid, okay? Can we please just get home?”

Mickey was all for that idea. He didn’t want to talk, he didn’t want to think, he just wanted to forget what happened with Gallagher.

When he went to park in the empty lot next to their house, his headlights reflected off of bottles and cups strewn all over the spot. He backed out onto the road and parked in front of the house instead. As soon as he cut the engine, Mandy was out of the car and running up the steps. She knew her make-up was smeared all over her face and she had started crying again and didn’t want to be seen.

When Mickey walked through the front door a moment or two after Mandy, the noise from the raucous party hit him like a wave and one of his uncles grabbed him around the neck and yelled, “Look who the state of Illinois released back into society!” and swung Mickey around to his right.

Mickey found himself face to face with his father.

“Uh, hey, Pop,” Mickey said, while his mind raced and he tried to understand what was happening. He felt like the floor had fallen away beneath his feet. His father wasn’t due to be let out of prison until spring. “What are you doing here?” Mickey regretted the words the minute they were out, but his dad was too drunk to take offense.

“They were letting suckers out for good behavior. I was sleeping in one of my cellmates’ beds because he couldn’t get up into the top bunk after I beat the shit outta him today. By the time they had me in the office with the line of other guys getting released, they figured it’d take less time to get my paperwork out of the warden’s office than to get the other guy out of his cell.” He slapped Mickey on the back, hard. “Ain’t that a bitch of a way to start the new year?”

“Uh, yeah, Pop, that’s great,” Mickey said, escaping the grip his uncle still had on him. He started to walk away.

“Where the hell are you going?” his father said.

“Getting you another drink,” Mickey lied.

“Good boy! Hey, shitbird!” Terry had already moved on to talking to the next guy he saw. Mickey grabbed a full bottle of Jack Daniels and scooted into his room and locked the door behind him.

He sat on the edge of his bed and took a long drink from the bottle. What the hell had just happened? He and Ian had…and if that wasn’t bad enough, he gets home to find the one person who would kill him for sure if he knew he son was so much as looking at another boy was suddenly back in the house. And then the Mandy and Lip shit…Mickey took another drink. He didn’t want to think anymore-he couldn’t let himself think about the hurt in Ian’s eyes, the softness of his lips, the way his fingers still tingled from touching Ian’s neck and hair, the warmth Mickey always felt when he was near him. And he sure as hell couldn’t think about how much he wanted more warmth and kisses and touches. It was wrong to want any of it. His old man would be the first to show him-show them both-how wrong. Mickey was going to have to stay away from Gallagher, and it sounded like Mandy had better stay away from Lip. They’d both just avoid the Gallaghers from now on. That would be for the best.

Mickey kept drinking till he passed out, still wearing his winter coat, still feeling Ian’s lips on his.

When Ian walked into his house after Mickey sped off, the party there was winding down.

“Why was Mandy crying?” he asked the group in the living room. Frank, Fiona, Kevin, Vee, Carl, Debbie, and Lip were sitting on various surfaces, everyone carrying on loud conversations all at once. No one so much as looked at Ian.

“Why was Mandy Milkovich crying? Who did what to Mandy?” he said, raising his voice and practically yelling. Everyone stopped talking to look at him, but still no one answered. Then everyone shot a glance at Lip.

“Lip, upstairs, now,” Ian said, stomping up the stairs. He wanted to be alone to think about Mickey, but he needed to get to the bottom of Mandy’s tears first.

They went into their room and Lip lit up a cigarette. His eyes were bleary and his face was flushed. Ian figured Lip was probably at a 4 on the Frank scale of drunkenness: just feeling good, not blotto out of his mind. He’d be able to talk.

“Speak,” Ian barked, not in the mood to drag whatever the story was out of his brother.

“What did Mandy say?” Lip hedged.

“Not a goddamn thing-what did you do, Lip?”

“Not me, Karen Jackson,” Lip said while smoke poured out of his nose. “She showed up here right ‘round midnight, said she wanted a New Year’s kiss.”

“And that made Mandy cry?” Ian said, not believing it for a minute. Mandy would’ve protected what was hers, would’ve told Karen off or physically yanked her off of Lip, if it came to that.

“Naw,” Lip said, blowing out another plume of smoke. “What got her was Karen saying I had spent the afternoon in her bed, so the least I could do was kiss her tonight.”

Ian closed his eyes and tried to count to ten. “And…had you spent the afternoon in her bed?”

“Course,” Lip snorted.  

“Jesus, Lip…”

“Hey, don’t start, all right? Mandy knew I ain’t no boy scout. She knew from the start I was still seeing other girls.”

“Then why was she crying?” Ian asked, sick of his brother’s bullshit but needing to know for his friend’s sake.

“I guess she thought since we were making it, I only did it with her,” Lip shrugged. “But I never told her that or did anything to make her believe that was the case,” he added quickly, as he saw his brother’s eyes flash with anger.

“What are you going to do about it?”

“Do about what?” Lip said.

“Mandy!”

“That’s up to her, man. If she wants more of me, she knows where I live.”

“You’re not going to try to make up with her?”

“Why would I? I’ve got Karen.”

Ian had never wanted to punch his brother in the face more in his life. But he realized this wasn’t his fight. And he always had felt deep down that Lip and Mandy weren’t meant for a long term relationship anyway. He had never been happy with the idea of Mandy dating his brother with his track record. The end was probably inevitable; it just hurt seeing Mandy upset.

“I’m going to bed,” Ian told his brother.

“Come downstairs, have a drink,” Lip said. “Party’s not over…”

“It is for me. I’m tired. Go back down there and have your fun.”

Ian brushed his teeth and returned to his room. Liam had been moved back into Debbie’s room once he didn’t need a crib anymore, so Ian had the room to himself for a while so long as Carl and Lip were downstairs. Ian quickly changed into his pajamas and shut out the light and got into bed. He closed his eyes and thought about Mickey.

He got why Mickey was freaked out. Ian himself was a little freaked out. He had never kissed anyone on the lips before-had never wanted to. But he had wanted to kiss Mickey for a while now. In the past few months they had spent together, they were growing closer and closer. Ian knew that. It wasn’t just him, he knew Mickey had to feel it too. Girls had never interested Ian, but Mickey fascinated the hell out of him. Ian couldn’t know enough about Mickey without wanting to know more, couldn’t spend time with him without wanting to see him again the moment they parted.

Ian knew men weren’t supposed to feel that way about other men, but he didn’t know why. Would it be better to be like Lip, to think girls were interchangeable and it didn’t matter who he was with? How was that better than truly liking someone, truly caring about him?

Mickey was…everything Ian wanted, he realized. Funny, tough, street smart, caring-at least about his car, Ian thought to himself with a little grin. But more than that, Mickey cared about Ian too, Ian could tell. He knew the way Mickey looked at him, included him in things. People couldn’t just fake that. Mickey wasn’t faking that.

The kiss-when Ian thought about it, it made him tingle all over. Feeling Mickey that close to him, putting his arm around him, remembering Mickey’s hand on his neck and the back of his head-it was the most wonderful experience in Ian’s life. He didn’t care if it made him a pansy or a queer or whatever other name people would call it. If that’s what he was to want to be with Mickey, then that’s what he was.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear...


	8. Chapter 8

Ian tried calling Mandy the next day, but she told him she didn’t want to talk and quickly hung up the phone. He figured he’d be seeing her in school the next day, so he didn’t worry too much about her. He wondered when he’d see Mickey again, though. He decided to wait until Mickey came to him-Mickey hadn’t wanted to talk right after the kiss and it wouldn’t do Ian any good to try to push him if he wasn’t ready.

On January 2nd, Ian went back to school and saw Mandy, but no sign of Mickey. That wasn’t completely unusual, although he did usually manage to glimpse him once or twice each day between classes in the hallways. Mandy told Ian that her dad was out of prison and that she wanted to put Lip and their relationship behind her. Ian wanted to ask how Mickey was, but knew Mickey wouldn’t want him to, so he didn’t.  

Mickey didn’t come to the grocery store either. When Ian’s shift ended on Saturday and he still hadn’t seen Mickey anywhere that whole week, he decided to go looking for him. He walked around, checking out anyplace he had ever heard of Mickey hanging out at, but Mickey wasn’t at the pool hall or malt shop or any of the neighborhood bars. Finally Ian gave up and walked home, half freezing from the Chicago winter winds.

The next day Ian took up his search again. His luck was better that day-he was walking down the sidewalk not far from Mickey’s street in the early afternoon when he saw a group of guys hanging out on the corner, smoking. He recognized them as Mickey’s crew from their clothes, and when he got closer, he saw Mickey in the middle of them.

But Mickey saw Ian as well, and turned his back on him quickly, but not before Ian caught a look of pure terror flash in his eyes. Ian hesitated. He realized Mickey couldn’t talk to him in front of those guys-especially not about anything Ian wanted to know: when and where he could see him again, what the kiss meant to him…

Ian was on the opposite side of the street and kept walking, but he was staring at the back of Mickey the whole time. One of the guys took exception.

“Hey! Raggedy Ann! What do you think you’re looking at, huh?” he yelled across the street.

Ian thought quickly. “Any of you guys seen Frank Gallagher today?” Ian could see Mickey’s shoulders relax from across the street, but he still didn’t turn around.

“Haven’t seen him,” the guy who had yelled at him said. “Wintertime the bastard usually finds a hole to crawl into that’s inside, off the street.”

“Thanks,” Ian said, holding his hand up in a gesture of farewell as he walked around the corner on his side of the street, his path taking him in the complete opposite direction of where he wanted to be. Near Mickey.

Mickey started skipping school altogether. Sometimes it was because his dad wanted him to do dubious criminal acts with him, sometimes it was purely to avoid any chance of seeing Ian. Mandy wasn’t hanging out at the Gallagher house at all, but she also didn’t want Ian coming to her house when there was always a chance her dad would be there. It was too cold to meet up at a park or the school playground or anything, so Liam missed seeing Mandy terribly. Ian and Mandy spent as much time at school together as they could and managed to stay friends even though they never saw each other outside of school anymore.

Mickey’s grades slipped again, and he was called into the principal’s office and told in no uncertain terms he had to maintain a passing average or he wouldn’t be allowed in auto shop any longer. Mickey told his old man (and was relieved to have an excuse to stop going on so many runs with him) and began attending classes regularly again. He still avoided talking to Ian, however. But anyone walking down the halls of South High couldn’t help but notice how the two boys would stare at each other from afar.

One day their luck took a turn. Some joker pulled the fire alarm and all the students had to line up outside like they had learned during fire drills. Ian and Mickey wound up standing next to each other because of the teachers of the respective classes they were in were assigned to that part of the parking lot. They were sticklers for students remaining in their row by row seating order from the classroom, so that’s where the pair wound up, side by side, Mickey at the end of his classmates, Ian at the beginning of his.

“I’m freezing my balls off,” Mickey muttered, stomping his feet, trying to keep warm. No one had coats and the temperature was hovering in the high twenties.

Ian glanced at Mickey from the corner of his eye; he couldn’t believe Mickey was actually talking to him.

“Tongue froze to the top of your mouth?” Mickey asked. Ian broke into a smile. Mickey breathed out a long sigh, he had missed that smile.

“Was just thinking I should offer to hold your lighter so you could warm your hands over it,” Ian replied, “but then they might think I’m the firebug that landed us all out here.”

Mickey’s eyebrows rose. “That’s actually a good idea, though-always the Boy Scout, huh, Ian?” He gave Ian a smile. “Hey, guess what we’re reading in Lundquist’s class.”

“I can’t imagine,” Ian said, wrinkling his brow, trying to think. He was a little dazed that they were chatting like this again, after all this time, like they had never stopped.

“Murders In The Rue Morgue,” Mickey said, his blue eyes drinking Ian in. “I’m gonna get points for classroom participation at last.”

The all clear bell rang, and the chilled to the bone students rushed back towards the building.

“Want a ride home after school?” Mickey said, hanging back to get one more moment with Ian.

Ian began to nod eagerly, then remembered, “Oh, I have to go to the store after school-work.”

“I can drive you there,” Mickey said, taking off to catch up to his class’ line. “Meet me at the Caddy!”

Ian stood where he was, smiling at where Mickey had been.

“Mr. Gallagher? Care to join us?” his teacher said while prodding his arm and pointing towards the building.

Mickey and Ian began hanging out again, but they never discussed New Year’s Eve and never came close to repeating the kiss. Ian sensed Mickey would bolt if he so much as brought it up, and Mickey seemed perfectly content to pretend it had never happened.

Mickey’s eighteenth birthday was in March. A few days later he got a letter that began with the word: Greetings.

On a super warm day in late May, with graduation for Mickey and Lip about two weeks away, Mickey drove his car over to Ian’s and they washed it and gave the interior a good cleaning. Mickey taught Ian how to do an oil change, and after everything was all done Mickey asked Ian for a favor.

“Would you take care of the car for me?”

“Take care of it how?” Ian asked.

“Can you drive it for at least a half hour every week to keep the battery charged, and change the oil every three months? I need you to take care of it for like a year.”

Ian thought Mickey was joking at first, but by the time Mickey was done talking Ian could see that he was serious and demanded to know what was going on.

“Mickey, are you in trouble? Are you going in for something your old man did or something?”

Mickey looked down at his shoes and scuffed the dirt. “I got drafted,” he said quietly.

Ian went perfectly still, he couldn’t have heard that right. His thoughts were racing and he realized Mickey had seemed to have something weighing on his mind since around the time of his birthday. Ian got upset.

“I don’t want you to go to Korea! It’s too dangerous,” Ian blurted out.

“This from the guy who hopes the war drags on till he gets out of West Point,” Mickey snarked, trying to deflect Ian being upset because of him.

Ian got even more upset.

“That’s different-I want to be trained and to be a well prepared officer. Guys from our neighborhood that get drafted or enlist are thrown on the front lines and don’t make it home.” Ian was speaking rapidly and his heart was pounding.

“Thanks of thinking of me as just cannon fodder, Gallagher,” Mickey said bitterly.

Ian got flustered and couldn’t say the real reason he wanted Mickey to stay so he floundered. “Don’t…I don’t want…”

Mickey saw the look in Ian’s eyes and couldn’t deal with what it meant, so he lashed out.

“Ian, what did you think was going to happen when I graduate? You think I’m going to go to some local college and be home on weekends to watch you play football? Put on the old green and white scarf and sit up in the stands with my South High pennant and cheer you on to victory?   You think we’re boyfriend and girlfriend here? You’re nothing but my sister’s best friend-her only friend-and when I graduate I’m gone. Whether it was to go work for some mook my old man knows or into the army, I’m gone, we’re done as soon as the school hands me my diploma.”

He got in his car and drove off, leaving Ian overwhelmed and more hurt than he had ever been in his life.

Ian was devastated. He didn’t talk to anyone, not even Mandy, and barely made it through the end of the semester. He and Mickey didn’t see each other or speak again. Mickey avoided him at school by only showing up on the days he had finals and even then showed up five minutes late to those classes after hanging outside to smoke so he wouldn’t see Ian in the halls.

Mickey’s English teacher was blown away by his final essay, and if she hadn’t seen him sitting at his desk scribbling in the blue booklet, she’d never believe he had written it himself. In all her twenty plus years of teaching, it was the finest piece of writing any student had ever passed in. The fact that it had nothing to do with Moby Dick-which was what the final exam was supposed to be about-didn’t stop her from giving him a grade of one hundred points. She couldn’t find it in her to deduct for grammar mistakes or lack of punctuation, his essay on commitment and loss and sacrifice and what it means to put one’s country and duty ahead of friends and loved ones and what a person wants for himself was so powerful and touching that she knew it transcended the rules of English. The final was weighted to be fifty percent of his grade, so with his up to them average of sixty, he actually wound up getting a very respectable B minus for that course on his report card. He got A’s in auto shop, math, and gym, a B in history, and a solid C in science.

Lip got six tickets for graduation and at the last minute Monica showed up and Ian was relieved he could give up his seat and wouldn’t have to attend, but Mandy begged him to go with her. Each senior automatically got two tickets and then they’d have to put in a request if they wanted more, like Lip had done. Mandy told Ian of course her father and none of her brothers would be bothered to go, so she wanted Ian there with her so she wouldn’t have to go alone. She and Lip were still broken up, but Mandy was determined to be there for Mickey.

“I don’t think Mickey would want me there,” Ian had mumbled, wishing Mandy would leave him out of this. He understood why she wanted to go, and why she wanted someone with her when it was Lip’s graduation too, but he didn’t want to upset Mickey any more than he already was.

“Mickey won’t even see you-we’ll sit in the back. And even if he does see you he’ll just think you’re there for Lip anyway. Come on, Ian, please?”

Ian gave in and went to the ceremony and got choked up watching Mickey being handed his diploma and walking across the stage. Ian didn’t think Mickey saw him there, but he did. Mickey tried to tell himself he was just trying to find Mandy in the crowd, but when he caught sight of the red hair and saw that he was with Mandy and not his own family, he felt a twist inside and knew it was a combination of gratitude and longing.

Ian had been reading up on Korea and found out the winters there could get brutally cold. He wrapped up his green and white scarf and asked Mandy to give the package to Mickey. He put a note inside, folded into the scarf, which simply said, “Please don’t forget all about me.”

A week after graduation Mickey had to report to Fort Lee for his induction. Ian was sure his heart was truly broken then. He didn’t even get to say goodbye to Mickey. Mickey had driven his car over in the middle of the night and parked it in the empty lot next to the Gallagher house. He left the keys and an envelope with cash in the glove compartment. There wasn’t any note, Mickey had just printed “For gas and oil” on the outside of the envelope. Ian fluctuated between thinking Mickey entrusting him with the car meant to let Ian know they weren’t completely over or that all it meant was Ian was more trustworthy than his brothers when it came to taking care of the car. Most of the time, Ian feared it was the latter.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Greetings" was the first word on a draft notice :(


	9. Chapter 9

About a week after Mickey had left, Ian was washing the car since he couldn’t think of anything else to do with himself. School had ended and the summer stretched out before him, long and lonely.

“Missed a spot,” a familiar voice said behind him. Ian whipped around and there stood Mickey, his hands stuffed into his jeans’ pockets, a cigarette behind his ear. Ian dropped the sponge onto the ground and took three long strides over to Mickey and pulled him into a hug before he could stop and think. Mickey allowed it, even when Ian buried his face into Mickey’s neck and breathed him in. Mickey wrapped his arms around Ian and held on tight. They hugged for a good long while before Mickey broke them apart.

“Neighbors are able to see us,” he said softly, and Ian let go and stepped back right away. Mickey’s eyes searched Ian’s. He didn’t want to hurt Ian ever again, and he hoped Ian understood that he didn’t really want to let him go right then.

“Mickey…how…why…how are you here? You didn’t go AWOL, did you?”

Mickey broke into a grin. “Naw. I failed the physical. I’m 4-F because of a perforated eardrum. My whole life I’ve had this vague half memory about a dream I thought I once had where Terry shot off a gun right next to my head when I was really small. Turns out it actually happened. When I got home and said why the army didn’t want me, Jamie told me it must’ve happened that time our ma was holding me when one of Terry’s customers showed up at the house because he thought he’d been cheated, and Terry pulled out a revolver, steadied it on Ma’s shoulder, and pulled the trigger. I was probably around three at the time.”

“So you’re home to stay?” Ian said.

“Yeah,” Mickey said. “Uh, thanks for taking care of the car for me. Since you’re in the middle of washing it, how ‘bout I pick it up tonight…after dark,” he quirked an eyebrow at Ian. “We could go for a drive.”

Ian broke into a big smile. “Yeah, we should do that.” He leaned down and snagged the sponge off the ground. “I’ll finish up washing and waxing her for ya.”

Mickey was true to his word and came back after sunset. Ian was sitting out on the steps on the side of the house waiting for him. He couldn’t help himself. It had felt like they had been apart for eons and he didn’t want to miss one minute he could be back with Mickey.

“Looking good, Gallagher,” Mickey called as he walked to the car. Ian grinned and bounded down the steps. He didn’t know if Mickey was referring to the car or him and it didn’t matter-just hearing his voice again was enough.

They got into the car and Mickey started it up. “Missed ya.” Again, Ian didn’t know if Mickey was talking to him or the purring engine, but he was happy just the same.

Mickey drove them outside the city limits.

“No river tonight?” Ian asked.

“Naw, too many kids will be around. I want tonight to be just us.” He looked over at Ian with a smile. Ian smiled back.

Mickey kept driving till their surroundings were truly rural, the road rough and patched and barely wide enough for two cars. He pulled off into some sort of orchard.

“What is this place?” Ian asked.

Mickey shrugged. “Just some spot my old man sometimes uses when we’re being chased. When you’re parked in amongst the trees here, no one can see you from the road.”

A brief thought flitted through the back of Ian’s mind about why Mickey would want so much privacy for the two of them, but he let it go. Just being with Mickey was enough and if Mickey wanted privacy to talk, Ian was all for it.

Mickey opened the car door and got out, going around to the trunk and getting his old wool blanket out. He looked at it for a moment as Ian got out on his side and joined him.

“Hot as balls tonight,” Mickey observed. “Want to sit on this or figure we can rough it on the ground?”

“Ground’s good enough for me,” Ian said. Mickey tossed the blanket back in the trunk and slammed it shut.

“Come on,” Mickey said, and gestured with a tilt of his head.

The moon had been on the rise while they drove, so there was enough light for them to find their way. They walked up a hill and Mickey plopped down under a tree. Ian sat on the ground next to him.

“Did you make any friends…,” Ian began, but suddenly Mickey’s lips were on his. Ian closed his eyes and went with it. Mickey’s lips were so soft, so warm.

While they were kissing, Mickey unconsciously tried to lick his lips to give them more moisture, which resulted in him licking along Ian’s lips. Ian opened his mouth a little at the feeling and slid his tongue out and it touched Mickey’s, and a whole new sensation was added. They turned their bodies more towards each other and the kisses deepened, their tongues daring to go farther into each other’s mouths.

They got lost in each other for a while. When they finally broke apart to breathe in some needed air, Ian realized he was lying on his back against the slope of the hill. He looked into Mickey’s eyes dazedly and smiled.

Mickey was looking down at him, his arms supporting him on either side of Ian’s head. He wasn’t smiling, but his gaze didn’t waver.

“I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye,” Mickey said, his voice low and soft.

“Mickey, that’s okay, you don’t…,” Ian began, but Mickey interrupted him.

“No, it wasn’t okay. I was a coward because I knew I’d want to do what we just did if I saw you before I left, so I chickened out and snuck off. The minute the bus pulled away from the depot I wanted to cry-which is something I haven’t done since I was a little kid and I figured out my dad got off on seeing my friggin’ tears.   But when I thought I was leaving you and might never come back, and I realized how shitty that made me feel, it finally hit me how it must’ve made you feel that I didn’t come see you, and I felt even worse.”

“It’s okay, Mick. You’re here now, you came back…to me.” Ian smiled a soft little smile and reached up to push back the curls gravity had caused to fall on Mickey’s forehead. Their eyes locked again and Mickey plunged into another kiss. Ian’s hands acted on their own, and rubbed up and down Mickey’s sides and Mickey laughed at the ticklish feeling that caused and flopped onto his back next to Ian.

Ian didn’t like that, though, so he positioned himself over Mickey and resumed kissing. Mickey let his hands cradle Ian’s head and his fingers slid through Ian’s hair. Ian let one of his arms hold him up while he placed his hand on Mickey’s side again and Mickey had to break this kiss.

“Ian, that tickles. Either knock it off or…rub me harder,” he said, shyly.

Ian’s breath caught and his heart started to pound. He swallowed thickly and rubbed his hand up and down with more pressure. Mickey smiled and shut his eyes.

Ian could feel Mickey’s scar through his thin T shirt. He lightly traced it with the back of his index finger. “Is it okay to rub this?” he asked, not wanting to hurt Mickey, ever.

“Yeah, that’s fine. It don’t hurt anymore. I forget it’s there,” Mickey said. He let his own hand run up and down his ribcage absentmindedly. Ian followed the path of Mickey’s hand with his own.

“How did it happen?” Ian whispered.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “My old man, what else? Iggy and me were playin’ tag in the house on a snowy day when I was like, eight years old, and my old man broke a whiskey bottle on the edge of the counter and I ran into it. My ma said Terry broke the bottle just to scare us, but I don’t know. Not like him to waste whiskey just for a threat.”

“Jesus, I’m sorry,” Ian said, his eyes full of concern.

“Yeah, well, it was a long time ago.” Mickey rolled out from under Ian and sat up to dig a cigarette out and light up. The pack was rolled up in one of his short sleeves, and the lighter was in the front pocket of his jeans. “You want one?” he asked, eyebrows raised while the unlit cigarette bounced on his lip. Ian nodded and Mickey lit the smoke and passed it over to Ian, then took another one out of the pack for himself. Ian carefully placed the lit cigarette in his mouth so his lips would touch where Mickey’s had been.

“When did you get so cool?” Ian asked.

Mickey squinted at him and asked around the cigarette he had just gotten lit, “About what?”

“Everything,” Ian shrugged. “All this mouth to mouth stuff…”

“Oh, shit-I didn’t even think. Are you okay with it?” Mickey asked, his voice sounded a bit panicky.

“Of course,” Ian said, breaking into a big smile. “I think it’s great...it feels good.”

Mickey grinned and knocked his shoulder against Ian’s. “Yeah, I think so too. I’m sorry I freaked out on New Year’s Eve. I just…I don’t think I had let myself even hope up until you did it that it could ever happen, between us. And then somehow it did but all my brain could think about was what my old man would do to both of us if he ever found out.”

Ian instinctively put his arm around Mickey’s waist, his hand resting over the bottom of Mickey’s scar. “I can see why.”

Mickey gave Ian a look that was half apology, half thankful. He was sorry Terry was going to be a problem for both of them from here on out, and grateful that Ian understood it.

“So…we can keep seeing each other?” Mickey said, hopefully.

“Of course,” Ian said. “I’m not sure exactly how we’ll manage to find places to do…this,” he said, giving Mickey a squeeze, “but we’ve come this far.”

“We’ll do what we do, even if we have to do it in secret,” Mickey promised, knowing he would never push Ian away again, no matter how wrong anyone might think people like them were. His heart had broken on that bus ride out of Chicago, and he was never going to take this second chance with Ian for granted.

Mickey got into college and enrolled in night classes so he could work at an auto body shop during the day. He actually did wind up going to all of Ian’s senior year games and even wore Ian’s green and white scarf. Mandy and Liam went to as many games as they could too. Ian decided he didn’t want to go to West Point anymore and got a full ride scholarship that included books, housing, and tuition to play football at the University of Illinois. The campus was almost three hours away from Chicago, and Mickey transferred schools, found himself a new job (still doing auto body work), and got a small apartment in Champaign to be close to Ian.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have taken an artistic liberty sending Mickey all the way to New Jersey before the army gave him a physical-I'm not quite sure how that would've gone back in the day. Besides, I needed the drama of them separating so they'd realize when they got back together there was no way they'd let anything come between them again. 
> 
> Hope everyone enjoyed the sweet romantic fluff :) 
> 
> Read on for the epilogue.


	10. Chapter 10

Epilogue

Fifteen years later Ian was a history professor at UMass Amherst and Mickey worked at a classic car restoration shop that he had part ownership of-he had bought a share of the business after he had been working there a few years. The Massachusetts college town had plenty of two-men or two-women households and no one batted an eye about it. Ian and Mickey had gotten into activism, they worked with Vietnam Veterans Against The War to try to bring an end to the conflict and to help as many of the returning soldiers and sailors and marines and nurses and doctors as possible.

At home they were in love and happy.

On October 27, 1967 Ian was at home, starting to prepare dinner after a day of classes. Mickey had sent Ian sixteen roses that had been delivered right after he got home, because Mickey insisted the night of the Homecoming Dance back in ’51 was their anniversary date. He had sprung that on Ian on their “first anniversary” a decade and a half ago. He had shown up at Ian’s house supposedly to take him to a movie, but he whisked him away for dinner out and then a trip down to the river for some romance. When they had parked and Mickey had kissed him soundly, Ian had asked, “What’s all this then?”

“What do you mean, ‘all this’?” Mickey asked back.

“Dinner and a ride out here, on a school night. Speaking of which-don’t you have a class tonight?”

Mickey shook his head and pursed his lips. “You didn’t care about that when you thought I was taking you to the movies. Anyway, don’t you know what today is?” He raised his eyebrows at Ian. Ian just stared back at Mickey-he hadn’t a clue.

“It’s our _anniversary_ ,” Mickey said.

“It is?” Ian said. “Wait, no, you came back from not going into the army in the summer…”

Mickey sighed. “Ian. What was a year ago tonight?”

Ian thought, but couldn’t come up with anything, so he shrugged. Mickey shook his head at him again.

“Jesus, and everyone thinks you’re the sweet one and I’m a punk. It was the Homecoming Dance!”

“O…kay,” Ian said, still not getting it. “That was ages before we started going out, or whatever you want to call what we do. Going steady?” Ian gave Mickey a cheeky grin, but Mickey was still serious.

“I _would_ call it going steady-you let me wear your letterman jacket that night, did you ever let anyone else do that?”

“No,” Ian said.

“And I let you drive the Caddy, do you think I ever let anyone else do _that_?”

“Never,” Ian snorted with a laugh.

Mickey tilted his head at Ian and looked him in the eye. “So that was the night we started going steady, understand?”

Ian broke into a smile. “Yeah, Mick, you’re right. There’s never been anyone else for me, ever since that night.” He didn’t bother to point out he had started having feelings for Mickey before that night, and that there was never anyone else for him but Mickey ever.

“Course I’m right. Come here,” Mickey said in a low growl, and pulled Ian closer across the car seat and kissed him a kiss worthy of an anniversary.

Fifteen years after that, Mickey got home from work and smiled when he saw the flowers in a vase on the coffee table. He walked into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around Ian as he stood at the counter chopping up fresh vegetables for a salad. Ian smiled as Mickey’s soft lips pressed against the back of his neck. Despite the fashion of the day, both men kept their hair short-Ian because his hair would curl out of control if he let grow long and after a few months of trying to keep it ironed after every shampoo, he just gave up and cut it short; and Mickey kept his short and said it was in solidarity because Ian couldn’t grow his out, but deep down they both knew that Mickey looked like a hobo when he tried long hair. Neither man had any complaints that the other kept his hair on the shorter side, they both had thick hair that gave them plenty to sink their fingers into-or grab onto-when the time was right for such things.

“Thanks for the flowers,” Ian said with a smile. “They’re beautiful.”

“Like you,” Mickey said, and stood on his tiptoes to get over Ian’s shoulder and give his cheek a kiss. “I’m gonna shower, all right? I’m all greasy and sweaty from work.”

“I like you all greasy and sweaty,” Ian said, and turned around to hug Mickey and plant a kiss on his lips.

“Yeah, well, tonight’s something special,” Mickey said, blushing. One of Ian’s greatest delights in life was that he and he alone had the ability to get Mickey flustered. And even after all these years, yet!

Ian waited till he heard the blow dryer shut off before he started frying up some trout in a cast iron skillet on the stove. Mickey had fallen in love with rainbow trout when they had first moved to Massachusetts. He even had befriended a group of old timers to go fishing with on weekends and they had taught him the ropes and now Mickey entered fishing derbies and everything. Ian was as surprised as anyone that Mickey had the patience for fishing, but then again, he could spend weeks and months hunting down authentic car parts and bringing them back to life, so he did have a patient streak in him. And hanging around with old men seemed to be Mickey’s thing-at the faculty parties they went to, Mickey would invariably gravitate towards the oldest men present. Ian had to agree with him that they usually had the best perspective on the rapidly changing world they were all living in.

“Old Ed catch that for ya?” Mickey said, returning to the kitchen. Old Ed was one of Mickey’s fishing cronies.

“First thing this morning,” Ian said, flipping the filets over with a spatula. Ed often brought fish over for them on a whim, but Ian had requested the fish for this specific day and Ed was happy to oblige.

Mickey was taking plates out of the cupboard to set the table and when he stood by Ian to get silverware out of the drawer near the stove, Ian noticed what he was wearing.

“The Hawaiian shirt? Really?”

“What? It’s sexy,” Mickey said, and swayed his hips from side to side while he clicked his tongue.

Ian shook his head, but put the spatula down and ran his hands over Mickey’s shoulders.

Mickey raised his eyebrows at Ian.

“Silky,” Ian said, and let his hands travel down Mickey’s chest. Ian loved how he could feel Mickey’s nipples respond to his touch under the thin material. “What the hell is rayon, anyway?”

“Beats me,” Mickey said. “All I know is it breathes, and that it feels real good when you touch me when I wear it. Better check that fish though.”

Ian grabbed a kitchen mitt and wrapped it around the handle of the pan and quickly tossed the whole pan onto an unlit burner. Then he turned back to Mickey, put his hands back on the shirt, and kissed him soundly.

“Told ya-sexy,” Mickey grinned, and bumped Ian’s hip with his own before grabbing some cutlery out of the drawer and bringing it to the table.

Ian returned his attention back to his cooking, and Mickey finished setting the table, complete with lit tapered candles. Ian grinned to himself. Mickey was so romantic about some stuff. Not only did Mickey make a point of celebrating this anniversary every year, he also always did some special little thing to commemorate their first kiss on New Year’s Eve, and to celebrate the June night that he referred to as their first “make out session”. On New Year’s it was usually a little present, a book or a sweater or some other thing that would remind him of Ian while Mickey was doing his Christmas shopping that he’d hold aside till New Year’s Eve. In June it was always Mickey taking Ian to a new place to have sex-sometimes it was conventional like a hotel or inn, but lots of times it was someplace outdoors, like a beach or lake or field. Ian gave Mickey credit, he sure kept their love life interesting.

Ian knew that making those gestures was Mickey’s thing, so over the years Ian had decided his contribution would be taking care of his man’s comfort, whether it was with food or blankets or bug spray when the celebration took them outdoors. Mickey would always thank Ian for forever being a Boy Scout.

While Ian put the fish on their plates, Mickey brought the serving dishes holding the salad and the peas and onions to the table. For whatever reason Mickey’s favorite thing to have with his favorite fish was peas and onions. Ian also had made fresh cornbread and he carried the cloth napkin covered basket over to the table after he returned the skillet to the stove. Mickey grabbed a couple of beers out of the fridge and they sat down to eat.

“Happy Anniversary, Ian,” Mickey said, and clinked his bottle of beer with Ian’s. They began to eat and discussed their day-once Mickey took his first bite of trout and moaned happily. “You always cook it perfect.”

“Thanks,” Ian beamed. He couldn’t take his eyes off Mickey in the candlelight.

After dinner they did the dishes together and then Ian asked Mickey if he was ready for dessert-some handmade chocolate ice cream he had picked up on his way home from school. The area surrounding Amherst was quite rural-and the university had started out as an agricultural institute-there were dairies everywhere supplying frozen deliciousness to the densely student populated five campus area.

“Maybe a walk first?” Mickey suggested. They put on warm coats against the autumn chill and headed out.

“Talked to Mandy this afternoon,” Ian said.

Mickey stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk. “Don’t tell me she’s finally pregnant.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “As if I’d let you sit there and eat dinner without telling you that kind of news. And as if she’d tell me before you.”

“You are still her best friend,” Mickey shrugged. They started walking again.

Mandy was a school teacher now, she taught English at the junior high school they had all gone to-and that Liam had attended when he was old enough. He was thrilled to have his good friend as his teacher when he was in seventh grade and now he was in college himself, studying to be an English teacher too. Mandy, like Mickey, had worked full time to put herself through college, but unlike Mickey, she went to school during the day and worked four nights a week and all day Saturdays. Her job had been at a diner downtown. She was a hard worker and the owner put her on the counter because that was the busiest spot and a waitress really had to be on the ball to keep multiple orders straight and the customers happy and get them their food quickly.

During her junior year of college, an earnest young man started coming to the diner after the dinner rush every night. He always sat at the counter and pored over papers from a briefcase, and one extremely slow snowy night Mandy struck up a conversation with him.

“You know, you’re always here after our busy time, the owner wouldn’t care if you used a booth. You’d have more room for your papers and stuff.”

“But then I wouldn’t get you for my waitress,” he said.

“So?” Mandy said.

“So…I’d miss that.” He blushed. Mandy saw the blush and she blushed.

From that humble beginning, they struck up a friendship, and then a relationship. He was two years older than Mandy, and he had a job working for his family’s philanthropic organization. His mother was related to the Wrigley family and they managed and contributed to a great many charities in Chicago. The young man had gone to business school and took his job very seriously. He told Mandy he put in the extra time not only so people wouldn’t think he got his job because of nepotism, but also because the causes were so important.

After they had been dating almost a year, Mandy finally gave in and “let” him meet some of her family (she couldn’t keep putting it off forever, but boy did she want to), so she decided to start with just Mickey and Ian. They drove up from Urbana-Champaign on a weekend to go to dinner with them. No way was Mandy having him come to her house even though Terry was no longer living there. He had been sent to prison for twenty-five years with no chance of parole. He had pistol whipped an off-duty policeman with the man’s own gun and had injured him so severely that he had to take an early retirement from the force. But the neighborhood and Mandy’s remaining brothers that lived with her were something she wasn’t ready to spring on her boyfriend yet.

Mickey was skeptical about the guy before they even had the meet up-instantly not liking him because he was into his sister, plus coming from a wealthy background was another major black mark. Mandy had tried to explain to Mickey that he wasn’t like that, and neither was his family.

“Mickey, the first time I met his mom I was invited to her house for tea. I couldn’t have been more of a fish out of water, but she invited other young women so I wouldn’t be the only one, and when I showed up in my one fancy dress-the one I had worn to homecoming in high school-she couldn’t have been nicer about complimenting it when some other old bat at the tea said I looked like I needed to cover up with a sweater. Most of the people there were super nice to me and I want you to make the same kind of effort.” She was counting on Ian to keep Mickey in line too.

When they met at the restaurant, Mandy’s beau stood up and shook their hands.

“Alex, this is my brother Mickey and my friend Ian,” Mandy said.

“We’ve met before,” Alex smiled at Ian as he released his hand.

“Have we? I’m sorry, I don’t remember,” Ian said.

“I do,” Mickey said, narrowing his eyes at the man. “You had the toboggan.”

Alex gave Mickey a big smile. “That’s right.”

Ian said, “Oh, yeah, I remember now. We met when Mickey was a senior in high school. Nice to see you again.”

Mickey did not warm up to the man throughout the entire dinner, and after Mandy’s college graduation, when she told Mickey and Ian she had accepted Alex’s proposal, Ian had to pinch Mickey hard to keep him from saying something mean. Even to this day, even though Alex made Mandy happy and they were obviously in love, Mickey still had his doubts about the guy.

“So why did she call then?” Mickey asked, not breaking stride as he kicked a fallen acorn across the sidewalk.

“She wants us to come for Thanksgiving, see the new house,” Ian said.

“Didn’t see anything wrong with the old house,” Mickey grumbled. Alex and Mandy lived comfortably, but nowhere near what they actually could have afforded if Alex wanted to dip into his trust fund. But he didn’t want to do that, he and Mandy both earned good salaries and could afford a modest house on the outskirts of South Side. They had chosen to live there so Mandy’s commute to her school where she taught wouldn’t be too long.

“Well, the old house only had one true bedroom,” Ian said, “so maybe they’re either thinking of having a kid or you have ‘uncle’s intuition’ kicking in and they’ll tell us at Thanksgiving one is on the way.”

Mickey snorted. “I bet it’s not so much they want us to see the house as it is Alex wants to see you.”

Ian stopped and turned to Mickey on the sidewalk when he stopped too.

“Mick, Alex loves your sister.”

“He settled for my sister.”

Ian rolled his eyes. Over the years, Mickey had thought a lot of guys were interested in Ian. But he’d never listen to Ian for a second if Ian ever said a guy seemed into Mickey. Ian didn’t understand how Mickey didn’t know how wonderful he was-and how handsome. And Ian didn’t understand why Mickey ever worried that Ian had ever looked at any other man. As far as Ian was concerned there were two types of men in the world: Mickey and then everyone else and no one was as good as Mickey.

They were standing so close together their noses were almost touching. Ian didn’t get why Mickey thought he’d ever so much as look at someone else. Mickey was perfect. The perfect height so when they were close like this, Ian could look down and see those blue eyes looking up at him, see the tops of those exquisite cheekbones, see the palest of pale freckles that you needed to be this close to see. Mickey at thirty-three looked very much like Mickey of a decade-and more-ago. Ian knew he’d never tire of looking at him. He wished they weren’t out in the neighborhood, on the sidewalk. He wanted to be even closer to Mickey, to kiss him, to touch him.

“Race you home?” Mickey said, almost reading his thoughts.

“You’re on,” Ian grinned, and followed when Mickey took off, his tongue lolling for a second before he pulled it back into his smiling mouth. He was gaining on Mickey and was just about to pass him on the sidewalk when Mickey veered into a neighbor’s yard and started running on a diagonal shortcut to get to their own backyard. Mickey knew just where the lowest fences were for jumping, and where to bust through the bushes bordering their own yard without getting poked in any of his most sensitive areas.

Ian finally reached Mickey as he was scrambling to put his key in the door.

“Caught you,” Ian breathed, wrapping his arms around Mickey’s waist. Mickey turned in Ian’s arms, the keys left hanging in the lock.

“You got me,” Mickey said in a low voice, and with a smile brought one hand up to the back of Ian’s neck while wrapping his other arm tightly around Ian’s waist to pull him closer in the little alcove leading to their kitchen door, in their very own yard. Ian put his hand on the side of Mickey’s face and traced his thumb over his ear, and cradled Mickey in an embrace with his other arm while he tilted him back a bit to kiss him deeply.

They both stood perfectly still, but could feel the world spinning round under their feet, and the earth spinning around the sun, and the galaxy spinning in the universe while their kiss went on and on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun thing I looked up for this chapter-blow dryers. Seriously, do an image search for 1960s hand held blow dryers-they were chrome and cool looking ;) 
> 
> Also, guys (and chicks) ironing their long hair in the 60s was a thing-that must've been such a pain. 
> 
> Another fun fact-I based Alex physical appearance on Harry Styles in Dunkirk-his character in that movie is Alex, and in my head canon Mandy's husband's name is Alex Kirk ;) 
> 
> I wrote this chapter/epilogue after I had watched Ken Burns' Vietnam documentary on PBS but before The Long Road Home aired-it was kind of a trip to see Noel wearing an Iraq Veterans Against The War T shirt in character as Tomas Young. 
> 
> And I had to work the Hawaiian shirt into the story.
> 
> And the ending of the story was based on the club kiss, of course. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the story, dear readers-I'd love to hear from you! 
> 
> Thanks as always to Gallavichthings for coordinating this to participate in, I had a blast writing this :)

**Author's Note:**

> This story was really fun to write-the first thing I did was look up slang terms from the fifties and some that you'll find here are candy ass, warm for my form, fuckin' A, boss. I also looked up when greaser fashion started-Mickey definitely would've been cutting edge in 1951. I also looked up Cracker Jack prizes ;) 
> 
> Fun fact: Theodore Herzl Junior College is now Malcolm X College.
> 
> The opening scene with the jerk giving Liam and Mandy a hard time is the only part of the story that will have anyone being racist, fyi.


End file.
